


The Echoes of A Mind at War

by astankovaspolastri



Category: Call of Duty (Video Games)
Genre: Bell too, Blood, Brainwashing, Character Study, Cigarettes, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Guns, Gunshot Wounds, Injury, Lesbians, NSFW, Park is a lesbian, Recovery, Smoking, Smut, Stabbing, Violence, Woods and Mason did not agree to this, a lot of it, everyone goes on a life changing trip with Bell, fem!Bell, feral!Bell, feral!Park, fire outfits, i mean it’s call of duty, it’s the 80s
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:09:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28082187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astankovaspolastri/pseuds/astankovaspolastri
Summary: THE ORIGINAL WORK HAS BEEN DELETED ON ACCIDENT!!Re-writing Call Of Duty Black Ops: Cold War’s campaign with some twists! I will be exploring the characters’ (mostly Park and Bell) feelings all throughout the story.As much as I loved the campaign, I think we didn't get to see how the characters were affected by the whole brainwashing project on Bell. I think they’ve all developed some sort of affection for Bell and it sucked that we didn’t see that onscreen, as well as the parts where they probably hung out together.I’ll try to portray that and stay true to the story :).I’ll also keep some official dialogues like during the briefings in the safe house.READ NOTES!!
Relationships: Bell & Alex Mason (Call of Duty), Bell & Eleazar “Lazar” Azoulay, Bell & Frank Woods, Bell & Lawrence Sims, Bell/Helen A. Park, Dimitri Belikov & Bell (Call of Duty), Russell Adler & Bell
Comments: 45
Kudos: 129





	1. Betrayal

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is only the beginning of the story, I tried write the moment where Bell got shot by Arash Kadivar from what we saw in the 5s flashback at the end of the campaign.
> 
> I hope to stay true to the characters and not annoy you guys too much with the overly descriptive scenes.
> 
> English isn’t my first language so I’m sorry in advance for the mistakes!

A sudden gust of wind launches her head to her left side, only to fall back against the broken glass window at her right side, its broken shards slicing her cheek and her ear through the thick material of her balaclava, her skull cracking from the impact. Or what she thinks is only a gust of wind, before hearing a loud gunshot not even a second later ringing through her ears, and the sudden strong vibration spreading through her upper body.  _ Huh…? _

She realizes that Arash had actually  _ shot _ her. And everyone else in the pickup.

_ Bastard.  _

She brings her palm to the concerned area, trying to localize the entry, to no avail.

Her eyelids feel heavy, and Kadivar is already gone by now, leaving her in the pickup. She feels cold, despite the warm blood coiling her chest and her neck, her neat uniform tinted now in a crimson color.  _ What a waste.  _ She wants to laugh at her own thoughts, caring for her uniform should be the least of her problems, but she doesn’t find the strength to care. She tries to turn her head, her eyes landing on the corpse of her comrade next to her, who received the same treatment. She doesn’t even need to look at the driver seat to know he has been shot as well. She coughs, finding it hard to inhale each second that passes.  _ Traitor. _

_ Arash Kadivar, I hope that whoever finds you, will eliminate you on the spot. I hope that Perseus will find out you shot me out of jealousy, that you betrayed me, and the entirety of your people.  _ Despite the anger running through her, she feels light, her ears ringing, suppressing noises by the second. She clutches at her stained uniform, as hard she can. The pain flows through her, finally confirming the bullet’s presence, making it harder to bear. She wants to scream but she knows her voice would betray her.  _ There’s no hope. _ She will die here, in a pickup with two other people, betrayed by a comrade in the middle of the night. She doesn’t think about a loved one, or her family, or her friends or even a recent lover. She had never been one to have a strong bond with a lover, she spent nights with them and left in the morning. Well, almost. There had been that someone, but it belongs to the past now. Buried forever in the back of her mind since long.

Her grip falters, and her vision is decreasing more and more. She merely hears loud crashes and gunshots, echoes from the past, probably. She laughs, finally. Her voice is croaked and cracking, sounding like an old man who has been smoking for years now. Oh, she smokes. Well, used to. She thinks that she will never feel the tip of a cigarette ever again, the warmth of the fire lighting it up between her fingers and the burning sensation inside her lungs. The deadly smoke dancing in her chest, slowly poisoning her. She barks a laugh again, if she had known she was going to die  _ like this _ , she’d have smoked much more for the  _ evil  _ dirty cigarettes to kill her instead. At least, she would have been prepared, not being  _ humiliated and betrayed _ .  _ What an honor to die like this. Shot with a misplaced bullet that didn’t even kill me on the spot. He doesn’t even know how to properly execute someone, he will not make it under direct orders from Perseus. Maybe he will even betray him too. No, Perseus will kill him for what he has done to me. _

Her head falls back, her breathing being cut shorter each time she inhales and exhales. Sweat covers her neck, mixed with the sticky substance covering her, she feels  _ dirty. _ Her limbs feel numb, the sensation spreading to her face, the cold biting her flesh. She clenches her jaw, catching her numb lip between her teeth. She feels another warm liquid tasting like metal on her tongue, meddling with the blood and spit already present in her mouth.

A light suddenly blinds the left part of her face, forcing her left eye to close completely. Another wave of cold comes in rushing into the car, causing her to shudder. She doesn’t have enough strength left to roll her head to the side but she hears faint noises,  _ voices? _ Maybe if she concentrates hard enough... _ Probably here to finish me off, in case I survived. He must have sent someone to get me, to verify he did succeed to kill me. _

“...This one,” She hears, the hoarse voice muffled in her ears, barely audible.  _ That’s right, I’m still breathing. _

“...Is in a pretty bad state,” Another voice,  _ or the same?  _ The beginning of the sentence is cut off, too far away for her to understand, too muffled.  _ What are they waiting for? _

“We should let them here,” That’s all the KGB agent can hear before everything else becomes too quiet, only small murmurs and a loud ringing in her ears that isn’t going away any time soon.  _ End me. Come on. _ She wants to spit out, she wants to scream at them that she still deserves at least to be finished instead of slowly dying because of a traitor that hadn’t even bothered to shoot her through the skull.

“...Take her,” She faintly hears, the voice being close now.  _ Or had it always been this close? _ “...Will know what to do,” She wants to laugh again, loudly. Makes fun of them, but she doesn’t have enough strength anymore.

Suddenly, something clicks in her mind. She realizes that they are  _ not _ speaking Russian. English.  _ Pretty common.  _ But there’s something else. None of them have russian accents, or any kind of accents actually.  _ They aren’t with Kadivar. _ She is too exhausted to think, whatever they’re going to do with her will be useless. It’s the end. Her heart is beating slowly,  _ slower.  _ The cold had spread to the blood in her veins, freezing it. She merely notices she’s being lifted and taken away, leaving behind a trail of information and her identity.  _ It’s the end. _

  
  


* * *

She looks down at the woman lying on the bed before her, tubes passing through her and machines making an incessantly bip sound.  _ Not what I expected.  _ The woman had been found by Woods, Mason and Adler severely injured and toying on the line between life and death. Her condition has been stable for a couple days now, occasionally waking up but quickly knocked out by the heavy drugs they’re injecting her. She looks at her partly exposed torso, her chest covered tightly by new bandages, wrapping the base of her neck as well. Helen brings her hand to her own scarred neck, caressing the abused skin softly. At least hers isn’t across her face like Adler’s. She runs a hand through her short cropped hair, sighing and opening a window. The cold air enters the room, filling her lungs and biting at her flesh. It feels good.

She turns her head towards the  _ former _ KGB agent at her side, biting her lip. When she had been recruited for a confidential operation to hunt down Perseus, she had been primarily chosen for her knowledge in paramilitary organizations. Adler knows her capacities, he knows what she is able to do. Including her ability to brainwash someone, erasing their memories and identity, to forge a brand new person. They have to interrogate the former agent before trying anything else, hoping this one will cope. She knows the CIA has unconventional methods to get their own way, torturing and brainwashing soldiers or spies to learn the slightest information. The CIA itself cannot risk being associated with this way of operating, so they gave up control of covert operations, and MACV-SOG was born. And she’s working with them now.

She snatches the pack of cigarettes in her leather jacket, as well as her lighter. She flicks it open and grabs one, placing it between her lips and lightning it. She inhales sharply and grabs the cigarette between her thumb and her index finger, releasing it from between her lips. She exhales, the smoke dancing in the air. Her gaze falls on the former agent lying on the bed once more, she mutters an useless apology for smoking.  _ As if you could hear me.  _ She scoffs, turning her head away towards the city,  _ what a mess. _

She slouches on the window’s edge, bringing a hand to her face and sighing heavily. She needs to think now.

* * *

  
A few weeks later, she and Adler have come up with a plan to turn the former agent to their side. After the former KGB agent’s full recovery, they had tried interrogation, to no avail. As suggested by Park a few days ago, they had decided to use the CIA’s brainwashing project.

“And now the training’s complete. We just need to give the subject a name.” 

“Bell.” 

Adler’s voice echoes through the room, Helen only nods,  _ Bell. _


	2. Da Nang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bell remembers Vietnam, Da Nang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter isn’t too boring, but here have some Bell/Park interaction as a distraction :).
> 
> I included the character i got inspired from for Bell’s physical appearance at the end, so check it out!

“Bell. Welcome to West Berlin.”

Adler says, looking at her while lightning up his cigarette and carrying it to his lips. She looks at the mediocre landscape before her, the supposed safe house. A tall woman with short cropped dark hair is leaning on the large garage door behind her, her hands tucked beneath her. _Park._

“We’ve got a job to do.” _Right. Perseus. Vietnam._

The woman bangs on the metal door she was leaning on a couple seconds ago, causing the person behind it to open it, allowing them inside.

“Park,” Adler greets.

“Adler,” Park nods at him before scooting down to grab a bag at her feet.

“Bell,” She greets as well once they’re inside. Bell nods in return, an itch at the back of her mind that she can’t quite reach. _She looks familiar._

The three of them enter the seemingly large place, the first thing Bell notices is the equally big board with pictures and papers pinned on it.

“Let’s get started,” Bell gets closer to the small group, as Adler is the first one to talk.

“There’s been a surge in Russian chatter in the last 48 hours. The CIA and the DoD are tapping their inside sources for anything substantial, but so far there’s no leads on Perseus,” Adler says from the small table in the center of the large place, agitating his hand he’s holding his cigarette with.

“MI6 has come up empty handed as well,” Park speaks up, standing up straight with her hands tucked behind her back. Bell’s gaze lingers longer than necessary on her, the itch from before returning. They met yesterday, but even at this moment Bell had felt like it wasn’t the first time, and now that they’re finally in close contact again, she is sure of it.

“We’ll have to start somewhere, so we’re going back here…” Adler’s voice startles Bell out of her thoughts, _for the better._ He gets closer to the board and points at one of the few pictures pinned on it, “Vietnam, 1968. One of our closest encounters with Perseus.”

“Shit. Some part of me always knew that mission wasn’t done with us.” Sims says behind Bell. He takes a drag from his cigarette before standing up from his sitting position on the small wooden table.

“Pull up everything we’ve got on the attack in Da Nang and run it past Park. She’ll cross reference it with MI6,” Adler continues, walking past a tall man wearing a Burger Town shirt with a greying beard. _Azoulay._ Bell wants to scoff at the sight.

“We’re looking for code names, encrypted transmissions, Russian activity with the NVA - anything that could be a lead,” Park says.

“You got it,” Azoulay assures before walking away.

“Bell, this is where you come in,” Adler speaks up again. “Someone high up wanted you in ‘Nam. I didn’t think I needed you then, but I did. Now I need you again.” Bell listens, unconsciously clenching her fists at the mention of Vietnam.

“Head to the evidence board. We’ll retrace our steps through Da Nang. Anything that could give us a lead on Perseus,” Adler says before crushing his cigarette into the red ashtray on the small table. 

Each of them goes to their own duties. Bell heads to the evidence board, barely showing anything for now. She tucks her hands behind her back, examining the little of what there is stapled on it. Her thoughts immediately wander to Park. Her face, voice, accent, _posture,_ feels familiar. _Not now._

She sighs and thinks about Sims’ words from earlier. _Of course that mission isn’t done with us._ She clenches her fists behind her back, nearly crushing her fingers in the process. _As well get to it now._ When she tries to remember Vietnam it feels like a bunch of memories hiding in a fog at the back of her mind, something you don’t get yourself into voluntarily. It felt painful back there. 

“Thank you, officer Azoulay.” Park’s voice rings through her ears from behind, snapping her back to reality. She feels the same uncomfortable feeling, _again._ When you see or hear something familiar but you can’t quite remember where you first encountered it.

Bell takes a last look at the evidence board and stretches her arms before her, her cross-harness shoulder holsters digging almost painfully into her skin. She catches her lip between her teeth, chewing on it. She might explode if she doesn’t scratch that itch. She turns around and walks towards where Park is sitting, interrupting her in her lecture. Park looks up from the file she was studying, gazing right back at Bell.

“How are things, Bell?” Park asks, closing the file and letting it drop in her lap.

“Interested in Vietnam stories?” Bell asks in a thick russian accent, shoving her hands into her black fitted trousers’ pockets.

“In this case, quite. Anything you can remember about Perseus is a possible lead,” Park answers in a calm and clear-cut tone.

“I haven’t talked about Vietnam in years.” Bell leans against the small desk behind her where a TV is put. Park follows her movements, rotating slightly in her chair.

She hasn’t. It’s true, in a way. But she has always felt like the memories of Vietnam had been hiding in some part of her mind, ready for an occasion like this to resurface and fill her with a dizziness and a hollow feeling in her chest.

“It must be difficult, Bell. I can’t claim to have experienced what you have,” Park puts the file she was working on aside and uncrosses her legs. “Maybe talking about it will help?” She leans closer, her elbows resting on her knees.

Bell looks down at her, a small smile unconsciously forming on her lips. _Why do you care._ Park links her fingers together, as if she was waiting for an answer. She isn’t. A moment passes before Bell speaks up again.

“Have we met before?” Bell finally asks, still looking at the woman before her. She removes her hands from her pockets, preferring to hook her fingers in the cross-harness shoulder she’s wearing above her white button up shirt.

“You and I? It’s entirely possible,” Park answers in thought. “I have a long collaborative history with other intelligence services. Our paths have likely crossed at some point.” Bell frowns but nods, _must be that._

“You’re probably right,” Bell says calmly, pinching her lips together. “I must have worked with you in the past. Maybe indirectly.” Park nods, running a hand through her dark hair.

“Anything else you need, Bell?” Park asks, leaning back on her chair. Her gaze falls on Bell’s chest, the latter noticing.

“No, that’s it.” Bell pushes herself upright, nodding at her.

“See you later.” Park offers her a small smile, returning to her files.

Bell walks away from her, planning to return to her initial position in front of the board before spotting Adler in the center of the room, seeming like he hasn’t moved at all since the end of the briefing.

_Park. I must have crossed her path at some point in the past. Must be it._

Bell bites her tongue before returning to the evidence board, looking at the corner Adler previously pointed. _Operation Fracture Jaw._

Bell jumps slightly when she feels someone step next to her, she turns her head to the side to see Adler standing besides her.

“Adler,” Bell says.

“Bell. You’re looking a little pale. You up for this?” He asks, looking at the board instead of her. She thinks for a split-second before answering.

“Never been better,” She assures him.

“Great. You’ve just moved up on my favorite team member list, right past Lazar,” He jokes, finally turning to look at her.

“Congratulations,” Lazar says from his position.

“Park seems familiar,” She finally says, lowering her voice so as to not raise Park’s awareness.

“You just met her yesterday, right? I don’t know, why don’t you ask her?” He questions, frowning. “Maybe you two have a special rapport. Keep it professional, Bell,” He says, half joking while slipping another cigarette between his lips.

Bell sighs, looking back at the evidence board. _That settles it._

“Why talk about our Da Nang mission?” She asks, taking a closer look at the board.

“It’d be good for Park to hear it from us firsthand. Maybe we have overlooked something,” Adler answers, and that’s all it takes to convince her.

“Let’s do this,” Bell says, grabbing a nearby chair and sitting backwards on it, her arms resting on the backrest.

_Bring it._

  
  


* * *

Bell is still sitting on the chair she borrowed a few minutes earlier, now in a circle with the rest of the team. Sims is sitting on the small wooden table at her left side, Lazar next to him while Adler and Park are facing Bell. 

“Alright Bell, we’re going back to Vietnam. First time Perseus pinged our radar,” Adler starts, crushing another poor cigarette into the still smoking red ashtray.

Bell sighs heavily, crossing her arms onto the backrest while intently listening to him.

“It was late January, ‘68. We were a joint CIA SOG taskforce, embedded within the 3rd Marine Regiment near Da Nang. SOG was there to sniff out Soviet activity. Word had it Russian operatives were active in the region,” He continues, getting back to the board and pointing at the evidence there about Fracture Jaw.

“Perseus had no known presence in Vietnam,” Park speaks next to him, catching Bell’s attention. 

“That changed in Da Nang. Somehow Perseus knew about Operation Fracture Jaw,” Adler finishes.

“Fracture Jaw? That one sure went sideways,” Sims says, Bell hums in agreement, her memories slowly returning.

“We launched out of Camp Haskins,” Adler continues, grabbing a nearby chair to sit on it. He takes off his brown leather jacket and draps it around the backrest.

“I’ll never forget that shithole,” Sims says with disgust.

“Good. We want those memories. No detail’s too small, a face, a name. We’re looking for anything that can lead us to Perseus,” Park says while Bell’s eyes land on the picture she’s showing. Perseus.

“This feels like looking for a needle in a haystack…” Sims says. “...in a field of haystack.”

“‘Maybe. But that needle’s somewhere.” Adler leans on the wooden table, looking right into Bell’s eyes.

“Remember...we had a job to do,” Adler continues, bringing Bell’s memories back.

Bell runs a hand through her short hair, clutching it slightly. _Vietnam. Camp Haskins._

_“Bell. Time to wake up.”_

_“It’s crank time.”_

“January 26, 1968. Adler woke me up, telling me it was _crank time_ ,” Bell starts, her russian accent thicker than usual. “I grabbed my M16 and started following Adler through the camp. He said something like Camp Haskins was our little oasis in the middle of this shitstorm.”

Bell’s memories are becoming clearer now, getting out of the thick and heavy fog clouding her mind. 

“Adler asked that guy about his arm, he said he could move it,” Bell continues, blurting out what she can remember. It must be good, if the way Park is nodding after each word Bell is uttering is anything to go by. “We joined Sims at the helicopter, he was reading a magazine. Adler told him that he was going to go blind if he kept reading those.” Bell grins slightly at the memory. “Adler teamed us up together. We climbed in the helicopter and got ready to leave.”

_“All birds check in when ready.”_

_“Badger Niner-One good to go.”_

_“Badger Niner-Two clear to go.”_

_“Badger Niner-Three rotors up.”_

_“All birds, go go go. Crank up and pull pitch.”_

_“All birds are in the air.”_

“Once we were in the air, Adler told us we had to take a detour because a source tipped them off that there might be a heavy hitter in town. A Soviet operative named Perseus.” Bell thinks for a moment, looking at her own hands. “It felt hot that day, the sun was blinding me.”

“First time Perseus pinged our Radar.” Adler’s voice echoes in her head, her eyes fall on him after his words. She looks at him for a moment, progressively forgetting why she had paid attention to him.

_Vietnam._

_Perseus._

“We...We approached the village,” Bell continues, forgetting why she had stopped in the first place. “I took hold of the mini gun and I softened them up a bit to gain some time. We got down on land and we got off the helicopter, we had to find the comms logs. We made our way through the village, joining the location. The building was occupied.”

Bell frowns, clenching her fist, struggling to remember.

“We cleared the establishment and climbed up the stairs, we arrived in front of a red door made of metal,” Bell stops at the memory of a metal door in a house made of wood. _Almost like a bunker._

“...like looking for a needle in a haystack.” Sims’ voice echoes. Her memories falter. She will shatter every bone in her hand if she continues. _Remember._

“I kicked the door open, we proceeded to take down the occupants in the room. Sims confirmed Soviet presence, and I found the comms log.” Bell looks at Park, who’s listening intently to what she’s saying.

“Then we joined the extract point with the comms log. We climbed up into the helicopter waiting for us. I took the commands and I shot down everything standing in our way. We arrived at the base and we discovered that the asset was actually a bomb. Sims got pissed at Adler for that. And I think I was, too.” She pauses a moment, navigating through the heavy fog in her mind.

“We charged it in the chopper, it was heavy,” She remembers. Bell tightens her fist at what’s coming. “We got shot by an RPG. The pilots lost control and they flew out of the helicopter. Sims and I tried to save them, but to no avail.” _A shitstorm indeed._

“...Somehow Perseus knew…” Adler’s voice rings through her ears again, this time she nearly snaps her neck by the way she turns her head to look at him. He looks at her, listening, as if he hadn’t just talked.

“We…” She continues, fighting with her own memories. “We crashed. And when I regained consciousness I was upside down. We weren’t injured. I had to use the minigun to repel the Viets, and the bomb was safe. I freed myself from my seat, and I took an M1911 to shoot at them. But there were too many of them, so we called air support. I did my best to fend them off, but the air support was taking too much time.” Bell feels long fingers wrapping around her clenched fist, causing her to relax before crushing her own fingers. “Just before they arrived, I got shot.” Bell brings her free hand to her chest unconsciously, where a scar rests beneath her shirt.

“I lost consciousness a second time, by the time I was conscious again they had already sent a Napalm Strike on our position. I couldn’t move, I was just watching. Adler pushed me to the ground and I managed to shield myself.” Bell looks at Adler, as if to thank him.

“The mission was considered a success. The bomb didn’t go off, and more importantly, we got intel on Perseus,” Bell finishes, looking at Park who had decided to sit beside her, her long fingers still wrapped around Bell’s now relaxed fist.

“It’s all we needed, Bell. Good job.” Adler’s voice brings her back to reality. He nods at her and stands up, slipping on his leather jacket.

  
  


* * *

  
Park watches as Adler gets up from his seat without another word. Sims and Azoulay both get up as well, gathering their belongings and slipping on their coats, preparing to leave.

_It worked._

Bell remembered the implanted memories, to the smallest details. Even the scar on her chest has a whole new story now.

The latter runs a hand on her face in exhaustion, bringing back Park to reality. The hand that had been cradling Bell’s own is now resting on the ex-KGB agent’s shoulder.

“You should get some rest for the night, it seems like talking about it really took a toll on you,” She says in the most gentle voice. Sure, these images Bell remembers are not real but she doesn’t know that. She can remember it as if it had happened yesterday, despite having never set foot in Camp Haskins. Park thinks about the way Bell had paused several times, looking at Sims or Adler before continuing, as if they had been talking.

“I think I’ll stay a bit more, I have to check that intel myself,” Bell says in her usual deep, husky voice, finally standing up from the small table. Park stands up as well.

_She can’t be left alone._

“All right, I will help you with it.”

The words catch Adler’s attention, he throws Park a look that says _“Are you sure about that? Can I trust you with it?”_

She simply nods _yes_ at him, assuring him that she’s in control if Bell suddenly snaps. _Which is highly unlikely._

Once Lazar, Russell and Lawrence have left, only Park and Bell remain. Park slightly rotates right and left on her chair as she looks at Bell decrypting the names on the intel, intently focused on the task at hand.

“Find anything yet?” She asks, straightening herself in her seat and getting closer to Bell.

“The name Anton Volkov is the one we should keep our eyes on,” Bell says as she undoes the first two buttons of her shirt, catching Park’s attention at the newly exposed skin. “But I’m not sure yet.”

“We should go over it again,” Park suggests, Bell agreeing with her.

And maybe it’s the fatigue, or the fact that it’s past midnight, or the physical closeness between them both despite having all the space available, or that it’s only the two of them, but it makes Park’s head swim. They’re alone, locked up in a warehouse in West Berlin in the middle of the night while Bell is showing off her incredible competences when it comes to decrypting, and it warms Park from head to toe.

Park’s eyes linger longer than necessary on Bell’s exposed neck, her hands itching to touch the skin there and discover the rest of it buried underneath her clothes.

Who cares if she is having those thoughts while ogling the ex-KGB agent?

_No one’s there to see me, anyway._

* * *

An hour later, the dossier has been entirely decrypted by Bell, confirming her first theory, Anton Volkov is the name they’ve been looking for.

They both stand up from their seats at the shared desk, Bell stretching and grimacing at the formed knots in her back. Park notices the small height difference between them, Bell being a breath shorter than her. Barely noticeable.

Park remembers their conversation from earlier, and decides to check up one more time on her.

“Did it help?” She asks suddenly, while Bell is putting on her own leather jacket, making her pause for a moment. “To talk about it,” She precises. _Just checking up on her, like Adler and I are supposed to._

“Maybe I’ll sleep better tonight,” Bell says as she shrugs, slipping a cigarette past her lips.

_That’ll do._

Park and Bell both finally get out of the warehouse. They agree on a time for tomorrow before leaving.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know what you think?
> 
> yes, yes she looks like this, i just couldn’t resist. imagine her with blue eyes though ;)


	3. Secret Phone Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bell has troubles sleeping and memory loses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi!! idk what to think about this chapter, honestly this is like a filler before the real action starts next chapter? yeah i think so :)

_ “The first time Perseus pinged our radar.” _

Bell spins around in the large bed inside the CIA’s assigned apartment. She sighs heavily, deciding to sit up. She drops her eyes to her exposed torso, bringing the tips of her fingers to the scar laying there.  _ It looks like it has been there only for a few months. _ She stands up and goes to find the mirror in the bathroom.

Once in the bathroom she braces herself on the sink, her knuckles white. She looks at her reflection in the mirror, her thin tank top exposing most of her chest. She grimaces at the sight of the scar being clearer now in the yellow light of the bathroom, along with other small ones. Her gaze travels to her face, the first thing she notices is the purple bags under her eyes, one eye darker than the other.  _ Since when have I been so exhausted?  _ She thinks about the past few months, and eventually the past few years.  _ Park. _ She scratches the back of her head at the thought, as if the itch is now physical.

She doesn't know if the memory of the woman is from long ago or recent, and she doesn’t remember in which context she had met her.  _ She probably worked with the CIA before, and I met her, like she said. _ Yet, the memory of her remains distant and close at the same time, and she cannot pinpoint how she feels about it. She grunts in frustration, a sudden burst of anger running through her.  _ I should probably drop it.  _

_ But if Park remembers…? _

Bell shakes her head, turning on the faucet. The water starts running, clacking against the white porcelain, the only steady noise in the apartment drowning her thoughts in the process. She bends down towards the sink, wetting her hands and running them on her face. The cold water makes her flinch, but the sensation is entirely welcome. She looks in the mirror again, examining the scar just under her right eye. She slightly turns her head to the side, checking out the numerous small scars on her ear. A grating laugh makes its way past her lips, it’s mocking.  _ Arrogant. _

She makes her way back to the bedroom, falling heavily on the rather comfortable bed, the fresh sheets welcoming her body’s warmth.  _ Berlin’s winter nights are ruthless when you spend them alone. _

  
  


* * *

**February, 24 1981**

  
  


When she opens the garage door for the rest of the team to enter, her eyes immediately search for the ex-KGB agent. She finds her standing between Adler and Azoulay, a cup of  _ probably  _ steaming coffee with a cigarette tucked between her index and middle finger in one gloved hand and a seemingly heavy bag in the equally covered other. She is wearing a long camel coat with a dark turtleneck underneath, and perfectly black fitted trousers, paired with heavy boots. Her short hair is falling around her forehead in a stylized way, apparently not clouding her vision that much.

Park finds herself thinking that Adler and Azoulay are ruining the picture. Sure, Adler is well dressed and he  _ is  _ good-looking, but he doesn’t come as near as Bell. She catches herself, taken aback by her own thoughts.  _ Nothing to overthink about. _

“Gentlemen, and Bell,” She greets them, closing the door behind them. She checks her watch clasped at her wrist. “You’re late,” She jokes.

Azoulay points a finger at Bell, who makes a face.

“I think we’re on time,” Adler replies, checking his own watch. He makes his way towards the center of the room, turning on the radio on the table.

“I’d thought you’d bring me one,” Park says to Bell, referring to the single coffee she’s holding.

“Didn’t know what you liked,” Bell replies, taking a sip while looking at Park straight in the eyes.

“I like it with two sugars in it,” She says with a playful tone.

“Noted,” Bell answers, the corners of her lips twisting into a smirk.

_ I gotta keep an eye on her, it’s nothing personal. _

“What’s with the bag?” Park asks, dropping her gaze to the sack Bell has been holding since she arrived.

“That’s an excellent question,” Bell answers, walking to the desk Park is often using, dropping the bag on it. She puts her coffee on the desk as well before dragging the zipper of the bag, opening it and revealing what’s inside. “It’s a projector, Adler told me we’d need it,” Bell says as she leans against the work surface, crossing her arms on her chest.

“I could use one of those,” She replies while looking through the contents of the bag, feeling Bell’s eyes on her, traveling down her body. The latter takes a drag of her cigarette and exhales the remnants of the smoke a second later.

  
  


* * *

“We’ve finished to analyze the names Bell acquired at Da Nang,” Park starts from her position in front of the board. Bell is standing with her arms crossed on her chest, listening to her.

“One in particular stands out. Anton Volkov. He’s a russian arms dealer, working out of East Berlin,” She continues. “Admittedly, his connection to Perseus comes as a surprise.”

“We’ve got to kill or capture orders on Volkov,” Adler says as he stands up to walk to the evidence board, Park stepping aside for him to speak to the team. “So if we can’t get to Perseus, we’ll get to his men. Close off his resources…”

“Force him out of hiding.”

“Mason and Woods are still wrapping up business in Kiev, which means Volkov is ours. Gear up and we’ll move out.” He finishes, silently dismissing them.

Bell makes her way to Park, who is sitting at her usual place before the desk.

“That intel you found in Da Nang was a treasure trove,” Park says, noticing her presence as she spins around in her chair to face her.

“Find anything in the intel other than the name?” Bell asks, leaning against the table behind her, careful not to knock over the TV placed on it, mirroring their position from yesterday.

“Well you tell me. After we dug it up you spent two full hours decrypting everything inside. You seemed to think “Volkov” was the name to pay attention to,” Park replies, smiling at Bell.

“I decrypted all of the intel myself?” Bell tilts her head in curiosity, trying to remember it. All she can recall is her difficulty to fall asleep last night.

“Are you feeling all right, Bell?” Park questions, looking concerned as she studies her. “That’s one of the reasons we wanted you on this team. Not even the CIA’s best cryptographers had been able to crack that dossier,” She says in a matter-of-fact voice.

“You’re special, Bell,” She says as she looks at Bell straight in the eye. “But it also sounds like you need a nap,” She says not even a second later, making Bell relax from the weird tension she has been feeling after Park uttered the words  _ “You’re special” _ .

Bell scoffs, grinning at Park.

“You’re right, I should take that nap.” Park simply smiles, causing some sort of bubbling feeling inside Bell’s stomach.

Bell breaks eye contact, turning her head to gaze at Adler at the center of the room.  _ He never moves, does he? _

“Have you worked with Adler before?” Bell asks as she looks in Park’s direction again.

“We have, for a short while. We share a common interest. Though to be frank, he’s not the most pleasant person I’ve worked with,” Park states honestly, 

“And from one woman to another, give him a wide berth,” She says, half joking.

Bell lets out a laugh.

“I don’t think he’d have a chance with me, anyway.”

Park’s lips twist into a knowing smirk that says  _ I know. _

“What else should I know about Adler?” Bell asks curiously.

“No more than you need to, I’ll tell you that. Avoid personal questions. And whatever you do, never ask him about his scar,” Park warns, nearly whispering the last words.

“How did Adler get that scar?” Bell asks with a playful smirk, gesturing to her own face with a gloved finger.

“Do you really think that if I knew I would tell you?” Park replies with the same playful tone, raising a brow.

“I think you would tell me about Adler’s scar,” Bell answers cockily, determined to mess with her.

“You’re cute,” Park says finally, making Bell know that even she doesn’t know the story behind it.

Bell uncrosses her arms and braces her hands on the edge of the table behind her.

“Anything else about Anton?” She asks. Park hums in thought before answering.

“Born on the coast of Leningrad. Never travels when the sun’s out. He has impeccable taste in Scotch and medieval torture devices,” Park explains as she spins left and right on her chair.

“A night owl, then?” Bell asks as Park nods in confirmation.

“I think he’d love the UK. I plan on giving him a personal tour,” She jokes.

“If he refuses, I’d be pleased to replace him for that tour,” Bell proposes, the same cocky smirk from earlier plastered on her face.

“Bold. I like it,” Park replies in a flirty tone, smiling back at her. If she hadn’t expected this kind of answer from Bell, she doesn’t let it show. “But for now, you should probably go see Adler. And let me work on these transmissions,” She scolds, nudging Bell playfully.

The single contact of Park’s hand is enough to send a bolt of electricity inside Bell’s body, all of her senses suddenly becoming alert. Bell pushes herself off the table, straightening herself.

“I’ll see you later,” She takes a step back, her eyes not leaving Park’s. Bell feels the blood rushing to her neck and up to her face, making her want to snatch her turtleneck off.

“Later, Bell,” Park says, still smiling.

Bell spins around, finally breaking eye contact. She joins Adler in the center of the room, feeling Park’s eyes on her the whole time.

“Nice work producing that name, Bell,” Adler says as she gets closer to him.

“The Soviet intel I found at Da Nang was in the archives?” Bell asks.

“We archive everything. The CIA’s like my ex-wife: won’t throw a damn thing away. The trick is knowing what’s buried in that pile and getting the thing you need, when you need it,” He replies.

The funny comparison makes Bell scoff.

“Did you ever see Perseus?” She asks, burying her gloved hands inside her trousers’ pockets.

“Did I ever see his face? No. That photo on the board is all we have, and it’s more than twenty years old. Handsome man. I hope the years weren’t kind to him,” He says as he looks over Bell’s shoulder at the evidence board where a picture of Perseus is hung.

Their conversation gets interrupted by a phone ringing, Sims picking it up and muttering something unintelligible under his breath.

“Doc, I think you want this one,” Sims calls out after Adler, who stands up to take the phone. Bell follows behind.

“Collections?” Adler asks.

“You bouncing checks again?” Sims asks in return.

“I’ll take it back here,” Adler says as he unlocks the door behind Sims, signaling to Bell that he will be back in a moment. He closes the door behind him.

Bell looks through the large window crowded by some furniture covered by white sheets, she frowns. Adler’s face is contorted into a scowl and he’s speaking through his teeth. But what Bell notices is that he’s trying to keep his voice low.

“What, you think everything’s about you now?” Sims interrupts, startling Bell. She scoffs and steps back from the locked room. She walks to Sims and leans on his desk, careful not to knock over the items placed on it.

“Here to entertain me?” Sims looks at her, seemingly not bothered by the way she’s half sitting on his desk. She swings her elevated right foot back and forth, careful not to kick the desk in the process.

_ As well as speak to him while Adler is busy with his secret phone call. _

“What do you know about Volkov?” Bell asks, wanting to know more about him before capturing,  _ or killing  _ him.

“I tried to track that motherfucker years ago when he went to Italy for a douchebag conference,” Sims says, gesturing with his hand as he speaks.

“He’s slick. If you see him, tell him Lawrence Sims says hello,” He continues, making Bell laugh.

“Will do,” She promises. Sims nods at her, a faint smile appearing on his lips, too.

Movement at the corner of Bell’s eyes catches her attention, she looks at Adler behind the large window, who is now visible again. The movement being only Adler who’s pacing around the room.

Her eyebrows knit together, a question forming on the tip of her tongue.

“Why did you guys request me for this team?” Bell questions as she turns her attention back to Lawrence.

She remembers when Adler first requested her for this operation, and the way he seemed so sure of himself.

“Hey, I’m not gonna judge. You might have been Red once, but you did us right in the war. Maybe sometimes you’ve got to be on the wrong side first, am I right?” Sims says as he raises his hands in defense.

“Yeah. Guess so.” The ex-KGB agent smiles at his answer, amused.

The door behind Sims unlocks, Adler stepping out of the room. Bell stands up from her position on the desk, nodding at Sims.

“Come again,” He says, returning to whatever he was doing.

“What was that call about?” Bell asks once she catches up with Adler. He stops in his steps and spins around to face her.

“Bell, you’re a spy, but let’s keep it outside the building, not inside. Understand?” Adler says, increasing Bell’s suspiscions while raising his hand and patting her on her arm.

She nods but doesn’t let it go.

“We’ll leave within the hour,” He informs before getting back to his initial position in the center of the room.


	4. East Berlin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team infiltrates East Berlin, they get split up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE WHOLE WORK GOT DELETED ON ACCIDENT!!
> 
> please give it as much love? i’m so mad at myself rn but the good part is that I really liked writing this chapter

Park drops her cigarette to the ground, crushing it with her feet as the announcer speaks through the speaker in the train. _ Here we go. _

She pushes herself upright from the wall she was leaning on as she brings two fingers to her earpiece.

“We just passed under the Wall into East Berlin. Get ready,” She says through the comms.

She waits a few more seconds to see if no one is coming to the back car, then speaks again.

“Adler, the back car is clear. We’re good to go,” She announces.

Less than a minute later she hears the loud doors of the car opening, spotting Adler in the front and Bell after him. Azoulay closes the door behind them as he follows.

Adler turns his back to Park, facing Bell.

“As soon as the train slows down, you and I’ll jump off,” She hears him say to Bell, who nods at him.

He turns around to face Park, her eyes still trained on Bell.

“Park, Lazar, wait till the next station. Bell and I will track down Kraus,” He continues.

Park feels a bit of reluctance at the thought of splitting up from Bell and Adler. Not because of Lazar, but because Bell will most likely be left alone with Kraus at some point. They can’t predict how she will react at the sight of him, if Kraus will say anything about her previous place in Perseus’ close circle.

This brings an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach, like a heavy rock you’d try to lift to free one of your limbs, in vain.

She usually doesn’t let herself be affected by a mission like this one, if ever. Bell is stable, and she knows who she is working for. She doesn’t need to be babysat.

They reach the far end of the car, Park grabs her MP5 resting on the seats.

“Alright, the train’s slowing down. Let’s go to work,” Adler says.

Bell steps closer to the door before sliding them open, Adler positioning himself ready to jump.

“All right, here we go,” Adler says before hopping off the train, Bell jumping right behind him.

Park watches as Bell and Adler lands safely onto the rails, cushioning their falls.  _ Let’s hope for the best. _

Lazar steps in front of the opening, waiting himself for the best moment to jump off.

She noticed during the briefing and on the way to the train station that Bell seemed out of the loop. If Park knew better she’d say the gears in her head were spinning at an alarmingly fast pace. But she doesn’t know, in fact she is far from knowing Bell. She could have simply been thinking about dinner, as well as she could have been thinking about her time with Perseus if by any chance the brainwashing magically wore off and she remembered everything.

Park wants to scoff at her own ideas,  _ it’s impossible. _ She wants to beat herself up over having such ridiculous thoughts.

“We’re almost there,” Lazar’s voice startles her out of her thoughts.  _ Already? _

The train slows down once again, allowing them to jump off of it. The fall is brief, and painless, she quickly gets back to her feet.

“There shouldn’t be any Stasi around here, but be careful,” She warns Lazar.

She bites the inside of her cheek as her mind keeps replaying how she has been easily distracted a few minutes ago that she couldn’t even notice the train nearing their station. So careless.

They walk a few meters before reaching an exit, Adler’s voice coming through the comms at the same time.

“Park, Lazar, we’re almost in position.”

_ Good. _

“Copy that,” She replies.

They reach the exfil point a few minutes later, looking around for any Stasi before considering the area secure.

“Park, Kraus just crossed the Wall. What’s your status?” Adler’s voice comes through.

“Lazar and I are at the exfil point awaiting your arrival,” She replies, shooting the other team member a look.

“Roger that,” Adler says.

* * *

Bell pushes the door of the bar open and steps inside, the atmosphere changing entirely from outside. It’s warm, the air is thick with strong alcohol and smoke, and conversations in german are fusing.

_ A woman with a blue umbrella. _

She takes a look around as she plunges further inside the bar. She finally spots a blue umbrella at the feet of a woman turning her back to Bell.  _ Found you. _

She makes her way to the table and sits down facing the woman with a grin. The woman looks up to see Bell sitting down as she greets her to which Bell answers enthusiastically in perfect German.

“Kraus is at the table over my right shoulder,” The woman indicates a few seconds later.

Bell looks over her shoulder, spotting a man with a briefcase at his feet. She takes the listening device out, it imitates a regular pack of cigarettes. She places it on the surface, towards Kraus.

A feminine voice comes through the device, a waitress asking Kraus what he will have.

“Audio is loud and clear. Now we wait for Volkov,” Adler’s voice says through her earpiece.

“Hudson didn’t reveal much - he said you're after Volkov?” The woman in front of her asks.

Bell only nods.

“How long will Volkov be in Berlin?” Bell asks.

“Who knows? The man’s like a ghost. I would guess no more than a day,” Hudson’s contact says, bringing her cigarette to her lips.

“What do you know about the courier over there?” Bell gestures at Kraus with a tilt of her head over the contact’s shoulder.

“Kraus is ex-stasi so don’t let his wholesome appearance fool you, the man is a killer,” She answers.

“The police are out in large numbers tonight,” Bell states.

“One of my informants was picked up in a random sweep, just two blocks from here. The Stasi must assume there are more nearby.”

The woman flattens her hands on the table between them, looking at them as if she was about to ask something from Bell.

“I would ask a favor of you,” She starts,  _ there we go. _

“He will not hold up under torture for long. We need him rescued...or silenced,” She continues as she reaches for her back pocket, sliding a piece of paper across the table to Bell. “They’re holding him here.”

Bell takes the paper and reads it, then she tucks it inside her pocket.

“I’ll see what I can do.” Bell answers.

“Heads up, Bell. I think Volkov is walking in,” Adler says in her ear.

Bell gazes over the woman’s right shoulder as the door opens.

“Where is Volkov?” Kraus asks as soon as the man gets close to him.

“You were followed. Go home and wait for our call. There will be a new time and place. We’ll take care of the tail.”

Bell’s blood runs cold.  _ Fuck. _

“Bell, we’ve got trouble. There’s two Stasi entering the bar,” Adler says.

Bell looks at the woman before her, her mind going blank.  _ Fuck! _ She contemplates the possibilities. If a Stasi spots her it’s over.

“Get out of here, now!” Adler’s hurried voice makes her skin prickle, she swallows. The said two Stasi enter the bar.

“Scheisse...Go through the bathroom, I’ll hold them off,” The woman says, her hand disappearing under her coat to pull out a gun.

Bell grabs the listening device and tucks it inside her pocket as she stands up and pushes the door to the bathroom, hurrying inside. She looks around, spotting a small rectangular window.

“Team, new plan. Meet outside Kraus’s apartment. He’s still our ticket to Volkov,” Adler says as Bell gets closer to her only exit.

“Copy that,” She says as she makes her way to it. She jumps and hangs herself on a pipeline on the ceiling. She swings her legs out, resting them on the rim of the window before slipping out, her narrow waist making it easy.

Her booted feet connect hit the wet asphalt, the rain falling on her head and soaking her hair. She releases a breath, bringing two fingers to her ear.

“I found a way out,” Bell says through the comms.

“I’m going to need more time,” Adler answers. “Rally up with Lazar and Park without me. I’ll update you when I can,” He says breathlessly.

Bell looks around the street before making her way to a door, crouching before it. She pulls out a pick and inserts it inside the lock, expertly rotating her wrist. The door unlocks. She stands and pushes the door, pulling out her suppressed 1911 in hand.

“Careful, Bell, the Stasi are everywhere,” Lazar warns through the comms. 

She makes her way inside the building, climbing up the stairs and stopping in front of a dark room. She spots a Stasi with a flashlight in the middle of several dressed mannequins. She comes up behind him and wraps her arm around his neck to immobilize him, she pulls out her knife and slashes it through the side of his throat, splashing blood on her leather gloves.

She lets the Stasi fall to the floor, trying to stop the hemorrhage while grabbing at his throat, gurgling. She steps over him without even sparing a second glance.

“Meet me in the building across from your current position,” Lazar says. “Keep a low profile, we already have enough trouble.”

Bell thinks about what Hudson’s contact has told her, one of her informants is held captive and he is probably going through a long interrogation. If he’s as unreliable and weak as she described he might cause an issue, sooner or later.  _ I’ll see once I’ll be out there. _

“Park, gimme a sitrep,” Adler asks through the comms.

“I’m in a storefront facing Kraus’ appartement. He just got home. You?” Park says.

“The Stasi are combing the area. I need to lay low. I’ll catch up with you when the heat dies down.”

“Bell, get to Park and Lazar. Now. Out,” Adler finishes.

Bell sighs as she crouches down to pass the Stasis surveying the area. She makes her way to a guard in front of a metal door, the basement where the informant is held. She comes up behind him as she has done earlier and grabs him by the neck, sticking the barrel of her gun to his temple and pressing the trigger.

Once he goes limp in her arms, she drags him to a dark corner, fully hiding him. As she stands up she wipes his blood off her chin, spreading more on her already bloody glove.

She goes to the door and starts picking the lock again, opening it in only a few seconds. She pushes the door open quietly, entering inside the place. She takes a look and counts the people present in the room.

Two...Three Stasis and the informant tied up to a chair, pleading and fighting with the rope holding him. She shakes her head at the sight and raises her gun to aim at the first one, shooting a bullet right through his skull, the others receiving the same treatment as she gets down the stairs.

Once all three of them are neutralized she makes her way into the room calmly. She looks at the desk with a note on it. She picks it up and reads it.

_ Huh. What do you know? _

She sets it back down and turns around to look at the young man on the chair. His hair sticks to his forehead, his left eye is darkened and he has multiple other bruises. His clothes are torn up, wearing dried blood on it.

Turns out the man’s a mole.

“You. I’ve seen your picture, they’re looking for you,” The rat says in a shaky voice, gazing at Bell’s face as if he had seen a ghost.

“Good thing you found me first,” Bell answers as she makes her way to him.

“What happened?” She asks, crouching next to him.

“I’ve been monitoring a nearby KGB field house. I don’t know how they found me, I’ve done everything by the book,” He says, struggling to speak, and probably think.

“How long have you been working for the KGB?” Bell asks.

“What...What did that paper say? You can’t trust these people,” He says, raising his voice in panic.

“Are you the one that tipped Volkov off?” Bell asks, losing her temper and causing her to raise her voice, too.

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about. Please, just let me return to my children,” The man pleads. The family card doesn’t work on Bell, in fact, it irritates her more than anything.

“It doesn’t work on me. And besides, I think you look a little too young to have children that would remember you, if you died,” She says, getting to her feet.

“You were careless and can’t be trusted. We’re done with you.” 

“Please don’t kill me!” He begs as Bell raises her gun, aiming at his head. She shoots a single bullet between his two eyes, his head falling back.

No loose ends.

She is quick to get out of the basement, closing the door behind her. She keeps walking, close to the building where Lazar is waiting.

The air in her lungs is knocked out as a Stasi bumps into her, she quickly recovers as the man tries to defend himself. He blocks her arms when she raises them to his neck, she is quick to think when she kicks him in the knees from the side, making him lose his balance. She frees herself and grabs his wrist, she pulls out his own gun, shooting him through his head, the blood splashing on her face.

_ Much for keeping a low profile. _

She grunts as she drags his body to somewhere safe, where no one will notice. She’s close now, close to the building where she has to meet Lazar. She hurries, as quietly as she can she jogs slightly. The rain mixes with the blood on her face, trickling down to her neck where a thick layer of sweat appears.

She pushes the door to the building, the walls suddenly muffling the sound of the rain and the thunder outside. She takes a deep breath, running a hand through her soaked hair falling on her face.  _ Come on _ .

She makes her way through the building, until she spots Lazar waiting behind a partially open door. He nods at her from his position. She walks to him as he lets her pass through the door

“Good work. I don’t think anyone saw you. Follow me,” Lazar says, closing the door behind them.

“It’s filled with Stasi outside,” Bell says as she slides her gun in her pants, the weapon resting tightly against her abdomen.

He blocks the door with a chair before making his way out of the building, Bell walking next to him.

“Park’s in the electronics store right across the street from Kraus’ place,” He says as they walk. “I was gonna pick her up some knackwurst from Der Braunbar, but it’s closed already.”

She raises her eyebrows and smiles a little, finding it amusing. She doesn’t know if he’s joking or if he genuinely considered it before joining Bell.

“Knackwurst?” She asks in curiosity.

He hums in confirmation.

“Some sort of sausages,” He replies. “Park’s just up ahead.” He points with his finger as they get closer to the entry.

  
  


* * *

  
She keeps the headset on as she looks at Kraus’ appartement from her position, it’s remotely calm for now.

She perks up at the creak of a door and the sounds of wet footsteps padding the floor, causing a high pitched sound with every stride. Bell and Lazar. Though, she bets Bell is the one making the shrill noise.

“We’re back,” Lazar says in a singsong voice as he enters the store, Bell following behind.

Park turns her head to them, her eyes falling on Bell. The MI6 agent’s breath hitch at the sight. The spy has spatters of crimson painting her face, as well as her black leather gloves. Her hair is soaking wet, sticking to her forehead, and the rain highlights her features. Park feels herself growing warm at the vision.

But she also feels how the heavy rock at the pit of her stomach is finally getting lifted, freeing her, if just a little bit. The sight of Bell being uninjured relieves her.

She forces herself to refocus on the task at hand.

“A car pulled up near Kraus’ building a few minutes ago, but I didn’t have a good angle to…” She stops mid sentence as she hears Kraus answering the phone. “...just a moment, Kraus is on the telephone.”

She hangs her headset around her neck and brings only one speaker to her ear, allowing Bell and Lazar to listen to him through the comms.

“...I know fucking procedure, no one followed me through checkpoint,” He says.

She sees Bell gets closer as she pulls out her camera, getting a better look at him and taking a photo.

“The briefcase is secure. It’s been with me the entire time,” Kraus continues.

“Where and when?”

“I’ll be careful,” He says before hanging up.

“What do you think, Lazar?” Park asks as she turns to him.

“Sounds like Volkov wants Kraus’ briefcase. We should place a tracker in it. That case will lead us straight to Volkov,” Lazar replies as he stands and gets closer to the door.

“One of us can sneak into Kraus’ apartment. Avoiding Kraus and his wife might be the greater challenge,” She proposes.

“I’ll go. I know how to pick locks easily,” Bell says, as if the picking locks part is enough to convince them.

“Bell volunteers,” Lazar states, examining his gun. “While she’s doing that I’ll check the exterior for any unwanted guests.”

“Park, you can keep an eye on us from here. I’ll try to give you my best angles,” He says as he loads his gun.

“Lovely,” She replies in a sarcastic way.

He disappears into the back room, and she gazes at Bell opening the front door to leave, too.

“The Stasi are stopping everyone, be careful,” She says once Bell is out in the streets. Her voice gets embarrassingly higher while telling her to be careful. If Bell notices she doesn’t comment on it.

She sighs as she focuses exclusively on Bell, who finally reaches the door to Kraus’ building and disappears inside.

“Bell, I saw Kraus writing in a ledger. See if you can find it,” She says. If she can find it, that’d be valuable information.

“I’ll look for it,” Bell says with her familiar russian accent.

“Bell, if you’re spotted by Kraus, or his wife, the mission is over,” She warns.

She starts chewing on her lip, nervous at the perspective of Bell sneaking inside his apartment while Kraus and his wife are there.

“You can tranq the wife if you need to, but Kraus must go to the meeting,” She adds.

A few seconds later she speaks again, hoping Bell is in position.

“I’m about to phone Kraus’ apartment, get ready to enter,” She says as she calls the telephone in the living room.

“I’m in,” Bell says.  _ That fast? _

“Nice work, now find the briefcase,” She instructs.

She hears Kraus’ wife picking up the phone.

“Hello, am I speaking to Freyja?” She asks in German, being careful with her words as she doesn’t master the language as well as other foreign ones.

“I’m sorry, but there is no Freyja here.” Kraus’ wife says through the phone.  _ Tranq her, Bell! _

“Is it your number? It is supposed to be Freyja’s number,” Park continues.

She spots Bell coming up behind the wife and raising the tranquilizer gun to her.

“Well, yes, that’s my number but I’m afraid…”

The rest of her sentence is cut due to Bell shooting a dart at her. She sees her struggling as she tries to catch herself and calls for help. Park feels a tug at the corner of her lips when Bell fully appears in her sight.

The latter bends down to pick up the fallen telephone, bringing it up to her ear.

“Having fun, yet?” She hears Bell ask through Kraus’ apartment telephone with an almost flirty tone. Park feels her cheeks flush. She doesn’t think too much about it and blames it on the anger, even if she doesn’t feel any.

“Now isn’t the time for jokes, Bell!” Park scolds, but unable to hide the amusement in her voice despite the reprimand.

She hears the click of the telephone that says the communication is cut.

“She should be out for hours, clean it up,” She instructs.

Bell picks up the wife onto her shoulder and makes her way to the couch, laying her onto it carefully. Park feels a not so unpleasant sensation in her chest at the sight. The Russian agent makes her way through the appartement under Park’s avert eyes. 

She hears sudden voices, one high pitched that sounds like it belongs to  _ a kid.  _ She sees Bell pauses at the bottom of the staircase.

“Shit, we missed the kid!” She says through her teeth, bringing her palm to her forehead to support her head.

“Don’t worry, it won’t be a problem,” Bell’s husky voice says through Park’s ears, sending a shiver down her spine. Her voice is oddly calm and serene, controlled. She doesn’t seem to be affected by it, and it honestly relieves her, if just a bit.

Park inhales sharply as she sees Kraus leaving his office, closing the door behind him.

“Kraus is leaving his office. Hide,” She warns Bell.

She sees Bell quickly hiding in a bedroom, flattening her back against a wall.

“Don’t let Kraus see you,” Park says, her palms sweaty.

She keeps her eyes on Kraus, who’s crossing the corridor to join his kid’s bedroom. Once she’s sure he’s gone for good, she speaks again.

“You can move,” She announces after a few moments.

She watches as Bell enters Kraus’ supposed bedroom, if the large bed is anything to go by. Bell suddenly pauses in the center of the room, Park gets ready to listen to whatever Bell is going to say but her voice never comes. Park frowns, hearing the pounding of her own heart in her ears at the multiple reasons why Bell could have stopped moving.

“Bell, still with me?” Park tempts, her voice raising a reaction out of Bell.

“Yeah, yeah,” Bell’s voice comes through, she sounds out of breath.  _ What did you see? _

Bell hurries to get out of the bedroom, closing the door behind her. Park restrains herself from questioning her. Now isn’t the time.

“I’ve lost sight of Kraus every time he entered that room. Have a look around,” Park says as Bell finally enters his office.

She checks her watch on her wrist, her blood running cold at the time.

“You’re running out of time, find the briefcase!” She urges.

She sees Bell taking a look with the light on attached to her gun, searching for any traces. She seems to find something because Bell disappears shortly after.

“I’ve lost your visual,” Park announces, her throat dry.

“And I’ve just found a secret room,” Bell replies. She only relies on the audio now.

“Have you found the briefcase, Bell?” She asks again, leaning back on her haunches.

“Just now,” Bell answers. She hears papers crinkling on Bell’s side. “It’s mostly photos of what seem to be a bomb,” Bell continues.

“Understood, just plant the tracker and get out of there,” She says, running her hands on her face, she has to get out now.

A few seconds pass before she hears Bell’s radio go static. Park’s heart misses a beat.

“Bell?” She calls and waits a few seconds.

_ No answer. _

“Bell, do you receive me?”

_ Again. _

“Bell!”

And just like that, the heavy rock falls back at the pit of her stomach, making it harder to breathe.

_ It’s my fault. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please try to give it as much love as before? :)


	5. Striking Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bell and Park get closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! thank you so much for your comments on the previous chapters <33 it means a lot to me!
> 
> here is chapter 5, probably one of my favorites with chapter 4 so far :)!

Bell’s lashes flutter open, a sharp pain spreading through her skull. 

“I-I can’t explain how she got to the material.”

She grunts, struggling to keep herself upright. Everything’s spinning and her insides are upside down. She inhales sharply as she turns her head, spotting a woman with red hair tied up to a chair.  _ Hudson’s contact. _

The memory of her tied up inside a closet comes back to her, as well as Kraus’ secret room. She winces, looking up to where Volkov and Kraus are.

She tries to move, only to be stopped by the rope wrapped around her.  _ Shit. _

“That makes this much less unpleasant for you,” Volkov says. “Perseus has been looking for this one.”

Bell frowns, not only at the ringing in her ears but also at Volkov’s words.  _ What would Perseus do with me? _ She remembers the informant she had neutralized earlier, who had recognized her and had hinted that she is a wanted woman. She wants to beat herself up over her indifference she had felt at this moment,  _ I should have interrogated him myself. _

“Will you let Perseus know I captured her?” Kraus asks desperately, she wants to laugh.  _ So fucking desperate. _

“Fine to me,” Volkov says after a moment, giving in. She sees him turn around to face her, walking slowly to sit before her.

“Perseus has a large bounty on your head,” Volkov says, his face way too close to hers.

She gets even closer, keeping eye contact.

“Go fuck yourself,” She says, spitting the words to his thick mustache.

He closes his eyes and puts distance between them, when he opens them again, it’s to nod at one of his men. She follows his gaze, watching as a man wraps his arm around Hudson’s contact. She fights back, her hands tied. She isn’t going to win. He snaps her neck, dropping her lifeless body back onto the chair.

“She gets it easy,” He says as Bell looks at him again.

“Do not tempt me to bring out my toys,” He warns. The mention of his “toys” brings back the memory of Park talking about his liking in torture instruments. She wonders briefly if she is interested in them herself.

“I will ask again. Who do you work for?”

“I’m not saying shit,” Bell retorts, not faltering under his gaze.

“What kind of fool are you?” He says as he raises his voice and stands from his chair.

Volkov lands a hard blow to Bell’s jaw with the cross of his gun. She grunts in pain, feeling a warm liquid leaking from her lip. She barely has the time to register what’s happening that he kicks her in the middle of the chest, causing her to fall backwards, the air knocked out from her lungs.

_ Bastard. _

“Do you think you will die with dignity here?” He snarls, propping his foot up on the chair, between her legs.

“You are damaged goods. Only a grave can cure a hunchback,” He says, chuckling darkly.

She watches as he raises his gun to her head, spotting movement behind him. She gazes above his shoulder, three other people are planted on the roof and ready to barge in. She looks back at Volkov, not wanting to raise his suspicions. The corners of her lips lift upwards into a smirk, a look of utter confusion on Volkov’s face.

Not even a split second later, the large windows attached to the ceiling burst out in pieces, Volkov forced out of his confused state as he shields himself from the shards. Large clouds of smoke form quickly, disorienting him and his men. She sees a splatter of blood spurts out from his shoulder as gunshots start ringing through the large place.

“Kill them!” He shouts as he brings a hand to his wounded shoulder, disappearing into the smoke.

Bell looks around, unable to move or see anything besides one of his men shooting recklessly in hope to hit someone. Her warm jaw pulses due to Volkov’s blow and her head is spinning. 

Bell watches as the man falls over after being shot, a familiar figure appearing a second later with a rifle raised towards his lifeless body.  _ Park. _

She runs to her, not wasting any time to bend down and undoes the rope wrapped tightly around Bell, who only watches. Park grabs her hand, pulling her up to her feet.

“I’ll secure the case,” She says once she’s sure Bell is steady on her legs. “Get Volkov,” She orders in a strict voice as she hands her MP5 to Bell, nodding at her. Bell finds herself unable to look away from Park, who seems to be in the same situation as their gazes linger longer than necessary on each other.

Bell forces herself out of her thoughts, nodding at her and finally going after Volkov, carefully walking through the smoke.

The more she walks, the more her pace picks up as she shoots Volkov’s men, she tries to fight the slight hitch in her steps due to her head spinning. She spots Volkov going through a door.

“Volkov went through there! Bell, take him out!” Adler says from his position.

“He’s more valuable alive, Bell! Don’t kill him!” Park is quick to say.

Bell has been aware of Park’s personal preference, even before having set foot in the train. And she herself knows that having Volkov alive would be more useful.

She kicks down the door, neutralizing the two men waiting behind. She makes her way to Volkov, who’s leaning against a door.

“So here we are, you and I,” He says, panting.

She grabs him by his shirt and makes him turn around, she flattens her palm on his back and twists his arm backwards. She hears footsteps, and sees Park and the others join her shortly after.

“At last!” Park’s voice sounds relieved. “Bell, on behalf of MI6… thank you.” She says, nodding at her.

“Volkov is ours.”

“More than he deserves,” Adler says, shooting a look at Park. “Now let’s get the hell out of East Berlin,” Adler announces, motioning with his head towards the exit.

Bell gets closer to Volkov’s ear.

“I think you’re going to take a little trip to the UK,” She whispers. “My friend Lawrence Sims says hi to you.”

* * *

Bell sits still as Park watches her from the little shelf hung on the wall, examining her injuries and what she needs to clean them. The Russian spy is patiently waiting on the chair in the middle of the room, the bright white light causing her to squint. Park suppresses a smile.

She gets back to her, putting what she needs on the table next to them. She takes a closer look at Bell’s face. The blow Volkov landed on Bell’s jaw formed a bruise, as expected, and her lower lip was cut as well. She passes her hand through Bell’s hair, trying to locate where Volkov had hit when he knocked her out. It’s wet and sticky due to the rain and the blood meddling together, but Park can’t stop the warm sensation spreading in her lower belly, she bites her lip.

“There,” Bell says, feeling Park’s fingers gently pressing her skull. “Where you’re touching.”

She touches the wound softly, seeing if it caused any important damages to Bell’s head. The more she massages it, the more warmth spreads through her own body.

“The wound’s not deep, it’s still slightly bleeding though,” She says, her fingers stopping their movements. “Try not to put pressure on it.”

She reluctantly breaks contact with Bell’s hair, the tips of her fingers coated with a little bit of blood. She gently tucks her fingers under Bell’s chin, tilting her head.

“Don’t move,” She instructs, her voice barely above a whisper as she steps back to grab a chair and sits besides Bell to take a closer look. “You didn’t take a hard blow, but it was enough to knock you out.”

Their gazes meet. She notices the spy’s cheeks lightly pink and her pupils dilated. Despite the now thick black spots in her eyes, she notices for the first time how easy it is to lose herself in them. Her blue is striking, a never ending sea that the MI6 agent wants to sail on. It looks like infinity, looking at Bell actually feels like infinite want to Park, her hunger never satiated, always calling for more. But it is a blue that she had seen faded so many times for  _ so many days,  _ circled by dark purple stains quickly turning to black.

And now that her fingers are casually resting on Bell’s chin in a room where they’re isolated from the rest of the team, barely enough space between them to breathe, she finds herself guilty for making her blue fade away. But despite the pang of guilt in her chest, the hunger has never been this strong, never felt this essential to her, primal. Her gaze falls on Bell’s parted lips, a tongue darting between them to wet the bottom one. Her breath catches in her throat, the concept of breathing now absurd to her.  _ Who the hell knew. _

She cannot remember with any woman she has ever encountered feeling  _ this _ hungry and desperate for a single contact,  _ whatever it’d be. _

A knock at the door makes both of them jump out of their skin, Adler bursting into the room while Park quickly removes her hands from Bell and puts space between them. If Adler notices something he doesn’t let it show.

“We’re going into town to find a decent pub, you two joining us?” Adler says, a grin on his lips.

“Fine by me,” Bell replies, slightly out of breath.

“Count me in,” She says in turn, a flush on her cheeks. “Once we’re done here I’ll let you know.”

Adler nods at them, leaving and closing the door on his way out. She lets out a sigh, seeing Adler in the same room, all three of them again, brings her back to reality.

“Sounds like fun,” Bell says, turning her attention back to the MI6 agent. It surprises her how Bell quickly jumps back into a normal conversation, but she doesn’t complain.

“Indeed,” She replies, the words struggling past her lips. She faces Bell again. “Turn your head to the side a little.” Bell does.

She examines Bell’s jaw, as well as her lip. She dwells on what could have happened if Adler hadn’t walked in. It isn’t even a question.

“So, as Kraus won’t be able to attend that tour…” Bell starts, gazing at her. Park chuckles.

“If we’re meant to fly to the UK for a reason or another, why not,” She replies, dropping her hands on her lap. “You’ll be fine.”

Their eyes meet, the atmosphere tense again.

“Thank you,” She blurts out.

“For what?”

“For not killing Volkov.”

“I knew about your personal preference, and I agreed with you. He’s more valuable alive and at MI6,” Bell says as she removes her dirty leather gloves. “Now, let’s have a drink.” She offers a smile, standing up from her chair.

“I’ll let them know we’re ready to leave,” She says as she gets to her feet, too. “Clean yourself, you look scary like that.”

* * *

Laughter erupts from their table, drowning within all the noises in the bar. It’s hot, and the air feels sticky, and there’s clouds of smoke everywhere, the smell thick in her nostrils. But she feels good, her head is light and she feels relaxed.

“I told Volkov you say hi to him.” She perks up at Bell’s words. 

The Russian spy had shed off her camel coat since long, her thin black turtleneck on display now. She also had cleaned off the blood and dried her hair, for obvious reasons.

“Oh yeah?” Lawrence says, a smile dancing on his lips.

“Actually, he wasn’t in the best condition to have a little talk,” Bell says.

Park cracks a smile, gazing at her. In fact, she hasn’t stopped looking at her since they entered the bar. She runs her eyes over her again. Bell is splayed out in her seat, her drink in hand while laughing from time to time. Her cheeks are tinted pink because of the alcohol. Park herself isn’t sober, either. Far from it.

She hasn’t stopped replaying the events from earlier in her head, feeling warmth between her legs every time she thinks about it. She chews on her lip, she might hate herself the next day or in a week for her private moment with Bell, particularly because if Adler hadn’t walked in, they’d probably still be at the warehouse right now. The thought sends another wave of warmth between her legs, she clenches her thighs to try to suppress it.

She looks beside her where Bell is slouched in her chair, deciding to bury her worries for another day. Right now, she feels like drinking and spending a good night, and releasing the tension from their earlier mission. She leans towards Bell, placing her hand on her shoulder, the latter getting closer as well at the contact.

“How’s your head?” She asks, her mouth close to Bell’s ear. Russell, Lazar and Lawrence are too engrossed in their own conversation to notice them.

“It’s not painful, and it stopped bleeding since we left,” Bell says, taking a gulp of her drink.

“You know, you scared me out there,” She admits, swallowing her drink as well as she notices Bell smirking.

“Good thing you rescued me before he had the time to kill me,” She jokes. She doesn’t even seem affected by the events, and it reminds Park of Bell’s utter calm back when she infiltrated the apartment.

“How come you were so calm in Kraus’ apartment?” Park asks, sliding her finger on the rim of her glass.

“Why would I have been nervous in the apartment? You were my eyes,” The Russian spy admits, gazing into Park’s eyes.

Park feels a pang of guilt in her chest and a knot forming in her throat,  _ then it was my fault that you got captured. _

“You got captured by Kraus because I lost sight of you. I thought we were done and we finally got our answer, so I stopped looking and I haven’t seen Kraus entering his office,” She says, gazing at her own finger fidgeting with her glass.

“I haven’t been careful enough, either. I should have just left instead of trying to rescue Hudson’s contact,” Bell says as she finishes her drink.

The MI6 agent grabs her empty drink in hand before clearing her throat, bringing all attention to her.

“To Bell, who successfully captured Volkov,  _ and _ got us information on that briefcase,” She says, raising her glass and the others following suit.

“I still think this asshole got more than he deserved,” Adler says as he raises his nearly empty drink.

“I captured him for the crown,” Bell says, raising her glass as well. 

Their glasses clink together.

* * *

Bell is leaning against the brick wall, in the street behind the bar. It stopped raining hours ago but the ground is still wet and there are puddles of water filling holes made in the asphalt. Bell flicks her cigarette with her middle finger towards one of them, drowning it. Her cheeks feel warm as well as the rest of her body, her ears are still faintly pounding due to the loud music and noises back inside the bar.

“Do you have one for me?” Bell turns her head at the familiar voice. She grabs her pack of cigarettes from inside her pocket and gives one to the british woman.

“Thanks,” She says as she slips it past her lips. Bell lights up her lighter for Park as she leans towards the fire with her cigarette. “Got tired of hearing Russell‘s complaints?”

Bell chuckles.

“No, I just needed some fresh air.” Park leans against the wall besides her, sighing heavily.

“Were you serious earlier? About you trusting me?” She asks after a moment, looking at Bell.

“We’re a team, I think me trusting you is essential in our line of work,” Bell says, fidgeting with her lighter. “But yes, agent Park. I was serious,” She continues, meeting the MI6 agent’s eyes.

“You can call me Helen, you know,” She says, a smile on her lips.

“You can call me by my name as well,” She says as she pushes herself off the wall. “I’ll head back inside.”

“I’ll join you in a bit,” Helen replies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed :)
> 
> also, next chapter will explore a little bit what Bell has been put through, how Park took part in it, and how she feels about it now.


	6. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helen remembers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: vomiting, torture, manipulation
> 
> I’ve struggled with this chapter a lot, if i’m being honest I didn’t really wanna post it haha.

When she opens her eyes, her mouth feels sticky and her own breath is enough to trigger her gag reflex. She grunts as she pushes the covers off her, her body covered by a thick layer of sweat. A light throbbing in her skull and the remnants of yesterday’s night feeling up her throat cause her to sit up and swing her legs out of the bed. She grabs her head between her hands, her fingers creeping up through her dark hair. _Haven’t puked, yet._

She raises her head again to look at the clock, _6:30?_ She frowns at her early rising, finally standing up from the bed. She opens the window, allowing the fresh air to enter the bedroom, and takes a breath. She grabs the pack of cigarettes on the nightstand as well as her lighter before leaning onto the window’s edge. Her insides are begging for some water and real food, and yet she lights up her cigarette and takes her first puff.

She remembers the events of the previous evening, the noise, the smells, the alcohol, Russell, Lawrence, Lazar and Bell. Mostly Bell. Her skin prickles, partly because of the cold air, and the other part simply because of the Russian agent.

Helen sighs. Now that she has a clearer mind and not under the influence of alcohol or simply fatigue, she actually realizes. _I am a fucking idiot._

She shakes her head, looking at the streets of Berlin. She feels something mixed with anger and disgust spreads through her, creating a knot in her throat and twisting her insides. Feeling how she feels with Bell is stupid. Reckless. _Dangerous._ It will have consequences, important ones.

She thinks back on their private moment shared in the closed room, the most illuminated in all the safe house. She had felt helpless under Bell’s intense gaze, and embarrassingly attracted to the spy’s full lips. She had wanted to pull on the bottom one with her own teeth, and soothing the sting with her own tongue afterwards. She had wanted to run her hands through Bell’s muddy hair and pull on it.

But the sight of a bleeding Bell attached to a chair inside of an either poorly lit room or an overly lit up room always comes back to her. It’s one of the many conditions Bell has been put through during weeks. Helen clenches her fist, _it was necessary._

She knows she shouldn’t feel guilt for Bell. She is, _was,_ a close associate of Perseus, who needed to be captured and stopped. _She is our only chance to get to Perseus._

* * *

**JANUARY 31, 1981**

Helen looks through the one way mirror at the agent, even if it was two-way, she wouldn’t be able to see her due to the blindfold obstructing her vision.

She’s tied up to a chair in the middle of the poorly lit up room, the only source of light being a bulb hanging from the ceiling above her head. She’s trembling and violently jerking and twitching for no apparent reasons, probably hallucinating things that aren’t there due to the sensory deprivation she’s been put through for three days now.

From where she’s standing, Park can see her tightly clenched jaw and her taut muscles, as if she is ready to jump onto something, or someone. Her lip has a deep cut, her face bruised and blood is smeared on her shirt and on the floor.

“Any improvements?” She hears Adler asks.

“I haven’t interrogated her yet. But it seems like sensory deprivation could get her to talk,” She says as she turns to him.

“Let’s get to it,” He says.

The agent perks up when Park enters the room, closing the door behind her. She gets closer, her steps voluntarily loud to let her know someone’s here. The woman visibly relaxes, her breathing slowing down. Helen frowns at the sight, seeing her relax when someone is walking in is definitely not normal.

“I knew it was you,” She says in a shaky voice, the words struggling to form.

Helen tilts her head, crouching before the Russian agent.

“How did you know?” She asks in a gentle voice, looking up to her.

“The way you walk,” The agent replies, her voice cracking and trembling.

_So that’s the reason._

She knows the Russian agent almost feels safe with her, _almost._ It’s a false sense of security Helen is forcing upon her, making her believe she understands her pain, and that she is here to save her. All of this to get her to talk. _Stripping her from her dignity._

She sets her hand on the other woman’s leg, making her jump.

“It’s just my hand,” She says as she observes the woman sitting before her.

It’s hot in the room, Helen feels it shortly after walking in. The agent’s dirty shirt sticks to her body and her skin glows under the light due to the sweat covering it.

“What are you going to do?” Her voice is barely above a whisper.

“I’ll remove that blindfold if you answer my questions correctly,” Helen replies.

She gets up, moving to stand behind the subject. Her hand travels up her leg and arm, reaching its destination at the back of her neck where the blindfold is held. The Russian spy cranes her neck to follow the touch, probably craving for any human contact.

“You just have to answer my questions,” She repeats, playing with the knot holding the blindfold. The woman nods in confirmation.

“What’s your name?” She asks, already knowing the answer.

Helen clenches her jaw, nothing comes from the subject. Not even a word. They’ve been doing this for weeks now, and she hasn’t answered a single question. She shoots a look at the mirror where Adler is standing behind it, observing it all.

She slides a hand along the subject’s arm, feeling the tensed muscles and the slight tremors. She keeps her other hand toying with the blindfold, pulling slightly on it.

_Fuck._

“Yuri.”

Helen pauses, looking down at where the voice had come from.

“Say it again,” She asks, sliding her hands to her broad shoulders.

“Yuri,” The subject repeats, her voice louder and unsure.

Helen restrains herself from smiling proudly, it’s the first time in weeks they have gotten an answer, and no matter how insignificant this answer is, it is still an improvement. _Better than your method, Adler._

“Good.”

The agent shifts in her chair, pulling on the rope joining her wrists and letting out a small grunt.

“Is it hurting?” She slides one hand down her back, reaching her linked hands. “I could loosen it up, do you want that?” The agent nods, reaching up as best as she can despite her position. Helen grabs her wrists to confirm her words.

“I need you to answer a couple more questions.”

She inhales sharply before asking once again.

“Do you know Perseus?” 

A pause. Nothing else comes, not even a sigh or a negative answer. _Nothing except silence._

* * *

**JANUARY 24, 1981**

Helen observes as Adler stands before the subject, a baton in his clenched fist, the tip coated with blood, drops hitting the polished floor. She is leaning against the wall behind her, her jaw clenched tight. _Violence won’t get her to talk._

“Do you know who Perseus is?” His voice sounds breathless due to his efforts, but he keeps it under control as he asks the same question over and over again.

No answer. _Again._ He lands a hard blow to her knee, the subject’s pained groan filling the room.

“I’ll ask again. Do you know Perseus?”

Helen watches the spy tied up to the chair. Her arms are colored in a purple shade, limp. Her face is colored as well, the arch of her eyebrows split open. She spits blood onto the floor. Her shirt is covered in crimson, torn up at some places, revealing her chest tightly confined into dirty bandages. They haven’t changed it since days.

She wants to scoff at his attempts, _this is useless._ She was one of Perseus’ closest associates, someone he could trust. She isn’t going to talk under physical torture. There’s no way Perseus would have hired someone as weak and unreliable.

The way the spy’s jaw is tightly clenched, her gaze trained on the floor and her fists shut tight, confirm her theory.

Helen looks away, knowing what’s coming. She only hears the pained sounds coming from the tied up agent. Her voice eventually dies out, the sound of Adler brutally landing blow after blow now filling the room.

* * *

**FEBRUARY 25, 1981**

**6:50 A.M**

Helen braces her hands onto the toilet’s bowl, her knuckles white as she vomits what could possibly be inside her stomach. She spits and coughs, her body slightly trembling.

Once any kind of liquid that was in her body is out, she sits on the floor, breathing heavily. She knows it isn’t because of the alcohol. Or at least not fully.

The memories of Bell being beaten up to the point of passing out, deprived from necessary medical assistance and sleep, is the reason.

Adler used to physically torture her, and she used to manipulate her. _Still do._

_We had to. We have to._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is just some fragments of Park’s memories, and how she felt about Bell from the start, there will be more in the future.
> 
> yes Bell’s real name is the same as the MW3 protagonist :) leave a comment pls?


	7. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bell sees things. Mason and Woods learn the news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first of all, happy new year everyone :)!

**FEBRUARY 25, 1981**

**11:30 A.M**

“Helen?” Bell calls.

Bell enters the dark room, the light changing immediately. The spy feels a shiver down her spine, her breathing shallow. She looks around and everywhere her gaze falls, there’s photos. Some are attached on a string above her head, some are resting on the tables and one is plunged in water. She gets closer to one of them hanging from the string, examining it. The landscape feels familiar, Bell could swear she has seen this photo somewhere.

_ Ding. _

She freezes, her neck nearly snapping at the way she turns her head at the sound. The blood in her body stops coursing through her veins. Her heart is banging in her chest, echoing through her ribcage, threatening to burst it. The TV at the end of the room is diffusing several images, each of them not lasting more than a second. She could swear it was turned off a moment before.

Her breathing accelerates, her skin prickling and the hair at the back of her neck standing on end. The ringing keeps echoing in her head, never ending. She wants to bring her palms to her ears, cutting out the sound but she can’t, she can barely move her eyes to follow the movements on the small screen. The sight brings an uneasy feeling in her stomach.

She wants to get closer and turn off the TV, smash it to the ground and leave the room, but she can’t. Her body refuses to move, refuses to listen to her, as if it had developed a mind of its own. There’s no sounds, no voices, no gunshots or cars rumbling, none of that. She swallows thickly.

She feels a light grip to her shoulder, fingers wrapping around it.

“Bell.”

The authoritative voice brings her back to reality, grounding her. She is conscious of her feet firmly planted on the floor again, of her still body and her heavy breathing. She turns her head to the woman besides her.

“I heard you calling my name.” Her brows are furrowed, her eyes boring into Bell’s own. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I…” Bell looks back at the TV, now turned off again.

“You seemingly haven’t taken the nap I advised you,” Helen half jokes, following Bell’s gaze. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I might just have been,” Bell says absently, clenching her fists at her sides.

Park slips the hand on her shoulder to her arm, pressing gently.

“Come on, you needed to tell me something, right?” Bell finally turns back to her, nodding.

“Yes. I found Kraus’ ledger you told me about back in the apartment,” Bell starts, walking out the dark room and passing a hand through her hair in thought.

“What’s inside?” Park asks, facing Bell.

“Records that might help us narrow down the list of suspects,” Bell says as she returns to the center of the room, Park following behind. “Kraus was a middleman to funnel money for them.” She slips out the notebook, showing it to the other woman.

Park reads the information written on the paper, silence falling upon them. The warehouse is empty except for the two spies, Adler off to an important meeting, Sims seeing one of his contacts for additional equipment, and Mason and Woods still wrapping up business in Kiev. She doesn’t know about Azoulay, though. _ He’d kill to be alone with her right now. _

Bell trains her eyes on the slightly taller woman’s face, taking in all the details. Bell had already registered the freckles and beauty marks on her face the day before, inside the white room. The memory sends a shiver down her spine. She watches the way the other woman knits her brows together in thought, pulling on her lip with her teeth. Her skin is paler than usual, and there are purple bags under her eyes, barely noticeable, showing yesterday’s night’s remnants.

“Have you found a connection with any of our suspects?” Park asks, startling Bell out of her thoughts. Their eyes meet, the Russian spy caught in her staring.

“I haven’t gone through it, yet,” She says, swallowing thickly.

Helen hums in agreement, her eyes trailing down the Russian spy’s frame. Her gaze lingers on her chest, tightly confined in a turtleneck under a white shirt, and her usual cross harness shoulder holster. Bell sees the shadow of a smirk onto the other woman’s lips.

“What?” Bell asks, a smile tugging on the corner of her lips as well.

“Nothing,” Helen says, shrugging. “I’m…” She trails off.

“You’re what?” Bell insists, getting closer than she already was.

“I’m just wondering…” Helen replies, her smirk bigger than ever now. “I’m just wondering if you ever take that thing off…” She says in a teasing tone as she rests a finger onto the leather fabric at her chest, referring to the holster.

“Very funny,” Bell says, raising a brow. Her gaze follows the path of her finger, moving up slowly to her shoulder.

“You look like you’re always ready to jump onto someone,” Helen says absently, her gaze trained on her own finger’s path.

“Isn’t that the point, in our line of work?” Bell asks, lowering her voice as she watches the long finger trailing on the thick leather separating their skin. “It’s like trust.”

“Trust?” Helen inquires, the tip of her finger finally reaching Bell’s shoulder, her nail scraping the material.

Bell hums in confirmation.

“Yesterday, you asked me if I trusted you. What kind of spy would I be if I didn’t trust my coworkers?”

Helen raises her head, meeting the other woman’s intense gaze.

“Sometimes, it’s better not to put too much trust in your  _ coworkers _ , you never know what could happen,” She says, her whole palm now resting onto Bell’s broad shoulder.

Bell registers only now their height difference. Helen is a bit taller, barely noticeable even if you squint. They’re standing close, if Bell tries to extend an arm, only a hand would fit between their two bodies.

“Are you telling me to not trust you?” Bell looks into Helen’s darkened eyes, her pupils so large only a thin ring of deep blue can be spotted.

“I didn’t say  _ me _ , specifically,” She says, her fingers moving to Bell’s collar. “I personally recommended you for this team, you know?”

Helen says as she fixes Bell’s shirt collar, the tips of her fingers grazing the sensible skin of her neck, sending shivers. This isn’t the only reason Bell pauses.

_ Did she now? _

“We didn’t know each other before this operation,” Bell states, confused on how the other woman could have recommended her.

“I did,” Helen replies, her answer short.

So many questions are burning the tip of her tongue at this moment, but something stops her from asking them. The feeling of knowing the other spy but not knowing where and when she had met her makes sense now.

_ I was right. _

A loud ringing comes from the table at the center of the room, neither of them breaking eye contact to look at the telephone. 

“I’ll take it,” Helen says, finally stepping away from the other woman.

She picks up the telephone and brings it to her ear, leaning against the wooden surface.

“Adler,” She breathes out after a few seconds.

Their conversation doesn’t last more than a few minutes, Bell quickly losing interest in it and focusing back on the task at hand.

* * *

**FEBRUARY 25, 1981**

**6:30 P.M**

“The information from Volkov confirms our worst fears, Perseus smuggled a nuclear device through East Berlin,” Hudson says, pacing around the room.

Bell watches him from her position, opposite him. She knows he doesn’t like her, he doesn’t trust her.

“We can’t be certain of that yet,” Adler interrupts, his glasses off his nose for once.

“He has it. I’m sure of it,” Hudson affirms.

Bell grabs a photo from the pile on the table, a huge cylinder and two men are on it, an helicopter with a large star shown on its side next to them.

_ They have it. _

“He does,” Bell breathes, showing the photo and pointing at the helicopter on the side.

Adler reaches out to grab the photo, taking a closer look.

“We found encrypted geocoordinates with Volkov’s nuclear intel, an unpopulated region within the Soviet republic of Ukraine,” Park says, catching Bell’s attention.

“An aerial recon run revealed this…” Hudson says as he slips a photo across the table. A huge building is shown on it, describing what’s surrounding it.

“I want to know everything that’s going on inside this building,” Adler says. “We’ll need the others for this one. Mason and Woods will join us from Kiev.”

He points at a blue circle on the map, tapping with his finger on it.

“Bell, you'll infil here with Woods.”

“Mason and I will be standing by for an extract. Park will handle comms,” He says as he looks at Bell, bracing his hands on the table.

“We have no idea how large or prepared their forces will be, so use discretion if you have to engage.” Bell nods.

“It’s time we took a peek behind the Iron Curtain.”

* * *

**FEBRUARY 26, 1981**

**9:30 A.M**

“How in your right mind did you think it was a good idea?” Woods spits between his clenched teeth, dangerously getting closer to Adler.

“It was mine,” Helen Park says from her position, leaning against the wall.

Frank darts his eyes between the two agents in front of him, as if he couldn’t believe the words that had come out of their mouths.

“She has recalled the implanted memories to the smallest details,” The British agent continues, crossing her arms on her chest. “She’s stable, and competent.”

“We are getting closer to Perseus each day,” Adler says as he gets closer to Frank, stopping right in front of him.

_ This _ is enough to pull a reaction out of Alex, who has been standing behind Frank since the news had been dropped on them. He lets out a dirty laugh, sounding like a madman even to his ears, a familiar feeling spreading through him. He recognizes the look on his friend’s face at his reaction when all eyes turn to him.

“How  _ sick _ are you, Adler?” He snarls, spittle flying from his mouth. “There were a hundred solutions to get to Perseus and yet you had to choose the most fucked up one.”

“If it was up to me, she’d have been sent to die in a shithole with an eye missing.” Adler’s calm tone and the way he’s casually looking down at him makes Alex want to push the stupid cigarette he’s holding down his throat.

_ He is still approving her idea. _

“What are we doing here, Adler?” He asks, feeling his whole body pulses and his hands shaking.

“Dragovich. Nova 6. You stopped one of the biggest menaces to the free world. I need you to do it again.”

Alex watches the man before him, trying to know what could possibly be happening inside his head.  _ Having two brainwashed agents in the same team isn’t the best of ideas. _

He shoves his finger in the middle of Adler’s chest, making him step back.

“Listen, Adler. If  _ one _ thing goes wrong with her, if she double-crosses you and you end up with a bullet between your eyes, I don’t want you to call for help when it happens. We’re here to stop Perseus, and that’s the end of it.” He gives a look at the other agent behind Adler, indicating that his words apply to her, too.

Silence fills the room, making it unbearable for Alex to stay in the same room as them. Frank follows him as they leave the two agents behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was inactive for a few days and i missed this story so much, i was busy with the holidays and all! it was nice to write from Mason’s pov at the end, and you have some Bell x Park interaction as always ;) hope you enjoyed!


	8. Greenlight, Redlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Woods and Bell infiltrate a Russian base.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it’s been a few days my friends :) i hope this kind of chapter isn’t too boring, i’d like to know your opinion on that?

**FEBRUARY 27, 1981**

**The Zakarpatska Oblast, Ukraine, USSR**

**4:35 A.M**

Bell watches as the trees pass by, her booted feet resting on the dashboard of the pickup. She can’t see much due to the early hour, the moon being the only source of light. She holds her rifle in one hand, the barrel facing the sky, she brings her other hand to the back of her neck, stretching it and grunting. Her shoulders are sore, too, due to the small nap she took.

“Never sleep while driving on a bumpy road in a shitty country,” Woods says beside her, his voice naturally hoarse. “I’m surprised you’ve even managed to sleep.”

She chuckles, looking down at her attire. She’s wearing a full body harness, with a knife strapped to her thigh above the tactical black pants she’s wearing. She has rolled up the sleeves to her forearms of her tight black sweater, her hands covered by dark fingerless gloves.

She’s even wearing a beanie.

“You…Talk a lot in your sleep,” Woods says.

The hesitation in his voice is unusual, and tells Bell that she wasn’t only making casual conversations. In the last hours if Bell has learnt something, it is that if Frank Woods has something to say, he’ll say it with no hesitation.

“Oh yeah?” She says, not quite sure if she wants to know what she is bragging about in her sleep.

“Yeah. I mean, we all do. But it seemed pretty serious,” He throws a look at her for a second, quickly focusing back on the road. Bell notices his fingers tightening around the steering wheel.

“I don’t really… Remember when I wake up,” She replies, sighing.

It’s true. Most of the time when she wakes up she doesn’t remember anything, the remnants of her dreams erased. But it’s still  _ there. _

“It’s better that way,” Woods assures, startling her out of her thoughts. “We’re almost there.”

The rest of the ride is silent, the only noises being the car running over tons of rocks and holes made in the dirt. She thinks back on her meeting with Mason and Woods, both of them having seemed off earlier.  _ Maybe they don’t trust me, either. _ She doesn’t blame them, hell, she even understands Hudson’s grudge against her. If she’s being honest, she doesn’t trust the man, either.

“Okay, time to stretch your legs. We’ll go on foot from there,” Woods says as he stops the car.

She opens her door, finally getting out of the vehicle. She watches as Woods grabs his rifle and rounds the car to join her, handing her an earpiece between his fingers. She grabs the small object and inserts it in her ear, nodding at him.

“You receive me?” Woods asks through her ear.

“It’s as if you were besides me,” Bell jokes, loading her rifle.

“Now we wait,” Woods announces, leaning against a nearby tree.

It’s not long before Bell looks up, a light passing over them and a whirring sound coming from the helicopter above them.

“I’m not picking up any extra chatter. You’re in the clear,” A familiar voice comes through.

“Copy that, Park. Stay on comms. Keep Mason and Adler on standby,” Woods replies before turning to Bell.

“Let’s go.”

Bell pushes herself upright and grabs her rifle as Woods starts to advance through the trees.

“The base is just over the next ridge. Get in, learn what you can, and get out,” Park’s voice instructs clearly in her ear.

“Shit, Park, I’d planned to stay a while. See the gulag,” Woods says, Bell letting out a laugh at that.

“Do that after we learn what Perseus has planned,” Park is quick to answer, her voice tinted in a snarky tone.

Bell parts the branches of a falling tree out of the way with one arm, revealing the massive building hidden behind.

“Look at that monster,” Woods says as she stands next to him.

“Much bigger than in the pictures,” Bell replies.

“Reds could be hiding anything inside,” He says. “Snap a picture. Ops will want to see this.”

Bell gets the camera out, she adjusts it and points it at the building. She zooms in on the multiple guards, the gates, and the main structure.

“That’ll definitely satisfy them,” She says she lowers the camera from her eyes, watching the giant building in front of her.

“Right. Time to get our hands dirty,” Woods says, grounding her.

“I’m seeing guards. High and low,” He warns as he looks through the scope of his sniper rifle. “Choose your target.”

She gets down on one knee, her own sniper rifle held between her hands, her elbow resting on her thigh. She looks through the scope and scans the area, she sees a truck pulling up at the main entry, below them. The two guards guarding the gate gather around the truck, opening its door to reveal another Soviet soldier.

She aims at the first guard on the left, breathing in and holding her breath.

_ 1, _

_ 2, _

She presses her finger on the trigger, the bullet going right through his skull. The other two don’t even register what’s happening before they fall onto the solid ground as well, a pool of blood surrounding them.

_ 3. _

“Shit, where did you learn to shoot like that?” Woods says besides her as she lowers her rifle and looks at her work.

“I’ve got a good eye,” She replies.

“Leave me some next time,” He says. “Take point and head down the slope. I’ll hang back and cover.”

She nods and jumps over the trunk hiding them, letting herself slide down the slant and joining the road below her. She quickly gets up and looks around before crossing the road and reaching the dead guards’ position. She tilts her head at the sight, debating on whether she should clean up the mess.

She thinks better of it as she enters the guardroom.

“Snap pictures of anything that looks important. Maps. Blueprints. Whatever you can find,” Woods instructs through the comms.

“Copy that,” Bell says as she looks around. There’s not much besides a computer, an office chair, and a pack of cigarettes. She grabs the latter and slips it inside her pocket. 

_ Souvenir. _

She spots a sheet of paper hung up on the wall, some sort of plan. She takes her camera out and snaps a picture of it. Once she’s done she puts the camera away, grabbing her lock pick instead. She crouches and opens it easily, setting foot on the grass inside the base.

“I’m in,” She says.

“Move up. I’ve got overwatch,” Woods replies.

“You’re seeing everything I am doing?” She asks, a grin on her lips.

“Yes. Eeeverything you’re doing,” He jokes, the hint of a smile in his voice.

“Find a way into the main building,” He continues. “I’ll trail and disable the perimeter alarm.”

Movement at the corner of her eye makes her pause, she spots a nearby door opening to reveal a guard coming out of it.  _ Shit.  _ She snatches one of her hatchets attached to her belt, raising her arm and throwing it right at the man’s head. He falls flat on his back, unmoving.

“Quick thinking,” Woods’ voice comes through.

She quickly joins his position, retrieving the hatchet in a sharp movement, some of his blood spurting out on her boots. She hooks the weapon back around a belt’s loop.

“Shit. A patrol is approaching my position. Bell, find a way in. I’ll follow around,” Woods announces through the comms.

“Be careful. It’s filled with Reds,” She warns as she scans the perimeter.

The first thing she sees is an helipad, a similar helicopter from the picture she has seen getting ready to leave. She counts four guards next to it, and two others pacing the area. She starts to move forwards, hugging the walls so as to not be in sight. Her palms are sweaty and she feels a drop of sweat running along her spine, tickling her. She crouches behind a truck but her pause is quickly interrupted by one of the guards joining her position. She grabs him by the ankles and pulls him towards her, making him lose his balance and falls backwards. He lets out a grunt but before he even has the time to know what caused his fall, she climbs above him and slips out her knife from her holster, slashing it through his throat, pressing her palm onto his mouth to stop him from making any sounds.

She pulls the knife out, more blood staining her clothes.  _ Part of the job. _ She gets up from the corpse, letting out a breath. She sees the huge white gates with a red star on it, leading to the main building. There’s a guard in front of it and another one pacing on the wall above it. She aims at the latter with her 1911, shooting a bullet through his skull. She doesn’t spare much of a second glance as he falls limply behind the brick wall.

The second guard,  _ thankfully,  _ walks away from the gates to pace around. She waits a few more seconds before passing behind him and slipping through the open doors. She sighs once more, this time relieved.

“The Reds are quiet for now. But I’ve still no word from Woods,” Park says through her earpiece.

“Alright. I’m about to enter the main building,” She replies. “Woods might be on his way to join me.”

“I hope so. Stay the course and get inside. Be careful.” The last words are rushed, which makes Bell smile faintly.

She goes through another smaller gate, leading to a narrow road. She hurries to hide behind a car as an APC makes its way behind the tall fence, its light illuminating the road. She waits, and it feels like an eternity before it finally passes and she’s good to go again. She reaches a door and gets her lockpick out again, inserting it inside the lock and rotating her wrist. It meets resistance, but she manages. It’s too late when she hears the movements behind the door. It opens in a sharp movement and she comes face to face with a Soviet soldier. He grabs her by her collar, pulling her inside. 

“Intruder!” He shouts in Russian.

She drops her 1911 onto the floor and the soldier throws a fist at her jaw. The blow makes her lose her balance, causing her to fall on the floor, the pain spreading up to her eye. She grunts, reaching her hand to her face,  _ he didn’t pull back. _

She watches as he raises his gun at her, her head is spinning and her left eye is still trying to adjust from the blow.

“Call for backup!” He orders the other man behind him.

“Identify yourself!”

When the door opens again, Bell thinks she’s fucked. Until Woods appears in her sight. He throws a kick at the soldier’s raised arm, and proceeds to wrap his arm around his neck. Bell scrambles to her knees and grabs the gun that was aimed at her head a few moments before. Woods snaps his neck, dropping his body onto the floor, revealing the other Soviet soldier, she is quick to neutralize him as well.

“You’re welcome,” Woods says after a moment.

She looks up at him, and for a moment she can swear a shadow passes over his face,  _ fear? _

“You lost something,” He says as he kicks her 1911 across the floor. She grabs it with no hesitation.

She gets up to her feet, wiping the sweat off her forehead. Their gazes meet, and the words slip past her lips before she even has the time to think.

“Thank you.”

He studies her for a moment, his jaw clenched tight. He looks uncertain,  _ or confused?  _ Something Bell cannot explain, as if he was deep in thoughts. He only nods, before turning his back to her.

“Park. Bell found us a way inside,” He announces. “But we don’t got a lot of time.” He crouches down to steal an access card from the dead man on the floor.

“Then get moving,” Park says.

“No arguments here,” Woods agrees as he slides the card to open the door.

They make their way through the building, neutralizing the few guards on the way. The place is as huge as the exterior makes it seem to be. They reach a narrow crossing, in between two damaged walls, the material falling off of them. There’s a door at the end of it, they take position behind it.

“Be ready. Could be a thousand Reds on the other side of this door…” Woods warns. 

“Cover me,” He says as he grabs the card he took from the dead guard earlier, swiping it to open the door.

As soon as the door opens, Woods jumps onto the first thing he sees. Bell is quick to notice that it is a mannequin, and she watches him with a smile. He pushes it down, pressing it on the floor while climbing on it. He marks a pause, taking a closer look before realizing.

“Not a fucking word, Bell,” He says, a finger raised in warning, not even looking at her.

“My lips are sealed,” She says with a wide grin as he gets up.

She looks around, there’s loud rock music, and the room is filled with arcade game machines, as well as neon lights and flashy colors. She gets closer to one of the machines, flicking a button on it.

“What the hell is this place?” Woods asks.

“It looks like…” Bell starts, trailing off.

“It’s a Spetsnaz training course!” Woods says. “Made to look like Fucking Anytown, USA.”

“Get a picture of that, Bell,” Woods says as she joins him by the window, looking through it at the replica of a town.

_ Holy hell. _

She snaps a picture of it, unable to believe it herself.

“No one’s gonna believe this,” Woods says. She nods.

A loud alarm goes off, soldiers appearing in her sight.

_ Shit. _

“Ah shit, they’re starting!” Woods warns. “Fuck! Let’s move!”

  
  


* * *

**FEBRUARY 27, 1981**

**The Zakarpatska Oblast, Ukraine, USSR**

**5:00 A.M**

Her leg is twitching nervously, her thumb is tucked between her teeth and her heart is beating incredibly fast. She passes her hands on her face, taking a deep breath. She is monitoring Woods and Bell from her position, and she does not feel as confident as she usually does in any other operations. This one is different, but she always worries about the same thing.  _ What if Bell knows? _ Her palms are sweaty, and the important amount of radio chatter she’s picking up isn’t making it any better.  _ What the hell is going on? _

* * *

**FEBRUARY 27, 1981**

**The Zakarpatska Oblast, Ukraine, USSR**

**5:10 A.M**

“Woods, Bell, I’m picking up on a ton of radio chatter,” Park asks. “What’s your status?”

“We got caught up in some kind of live fire drill. Place is crawling with Reds. We’re still looking for intel,” Woods replies, the elevator going up.

“Bloody hell. I’m putting Mason and Adler on standby for extract,” She says.

“She sounds mad. Does she sound mad?” Woods asks as he turns to look at Bell.

“She is mad,” Bell replies, restraining herself from smiling.

“The intruders are here!” A russian voice says as the elevator doors open.

They neutralize the Soviet soldiers in their way, moving up to their position and entering the room they were protecting.

“Looks like their command center. C’mon,” Woods says as they step foot inside the room.

“Jackpot! Computer central. Let’s what the Reds are really up to…” He says. “Bell, hop on that terminal. Start poking around.”

She sits at the office chair in front of the terminal, turning it on.

“Welcome to the Soviet People’s Warfare Analysis Archive…” A feminine voice says in a thick russian accent.

The screen shows three options. Tactical Urban Combat, KGB Updates, and Operation Greenlight. She chooses the latter.

“Operation Greenlight…” The voice says. “Restricted Access…”

“What the fuck is Operation Greenlight?” Woods says as he turns around, leaning onto the barrier in front of her. “Bell, can you hack into that?”

“I might have to, there’s a password,” She replies, selecting the  _ enter password  _ option.

“Of course there’s a password…Look around. These Reds ain’t that smart,” Woods says as he paces around the room.

Bell looks around the desk, there’s not much except for a post-it stamped next to the screen and a sticker under it.

“What about Stalin’s greatest hit?” Woods suggests, Bell snorts.

“Stick to the surveying,” She replies.

She tries the word written on the sticker,  _ SOCHI. _

“Restricted access…” The computer says.

“Damn it,” Bell spits, the voice rising anger out of her. She punches the desk in frustration.

“C’mon Bell, you’re supposed to be this master code breaker. It’s probably the birthday of some dumbass kid,” Woods says, looking back and forth between the window and Bell.

She looks at the post-it and the drawing on it,  _ Brezhnev.  _ She types in  _ BREZHNEV _ , the computer loading a new page, indicating that she guessed correctly.

“It worked,” Bell says, watching as the screen displays images of a bomb, and other information written on it.

“Nice. What was it?” Woods asks.

“Brezhnev.”

The screen proposes three options again,

_ Audio Log 01 _

_ Audio Log 02  _

And  _ Print: Project Greenlight.  _

She chooses the first audio, pressing  _ enter. _

“We confirmed it. The nuke smuggled out of Berlin is a Greenlight asset. It’s one of ours,” Bell recognizes the gruff voice,  _ Hudson. _

“If that gets out…” Another voice is heard, but this one is unfamiliar to Bell.

“No one will know. Not even Adler’s team. The stakes are too high,” Hudson replies.

“High is an understatement. We’re talking about an American nuke hidden beneath Berlin.” 

_ An American nuke? _

The audio cuts off, signaling its end. She starts the second one.

“I want to make sure you’re committed, Hudson…”

“The play has been called. The ball is in motion,” Hudson says.

“Well, if the asset learns the truth…”

_ The asset? _

“You’re worried about truth now?” Hudson inquires.

“I’m concerned about control…of the  _ asset _ ,” The other person says, insisting on the last word.

“If we can’t control the asset. We end the asset. Game over.”

Bell balls her fist, boring holes into the screen at how hard she’s staring at it.

_ The asset is a person. _

She prints it, the printer rumbling as it gets to work.

_ Liar. _

“I’m grabbing a copy!” Woods says as he goes to retrieve it.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Woods says after a moment as he looks at the piece of paper, reading through it.

“Perseus infiltrated a CIA nuke program codenamed Operation Greenlight,” He announces. “Run by Hudson!”

Woods crushes the sheet of paper in his fist, kicking the metal desk besides him.

“The stolen nuke is American! And Hudson fucking knew,” Woods repeats as he points a finger at Bell.

A loud alarm goes off, the terminal showing an alert message as well.

“Shit! Time to go!” Woods says.

“Unauthorized access!” The feminine voice coming from the computer announces.

“Oh, shut it,” Bell says as she pushes herself from the desk, getting to her feet.

“I can’t fucking believe it!” Woods shouts to himself in frustration as they run towards an exit.

_ Hudson lied. _

“Park, Come in! Park! Hudson lied to us! He fucking lied to us!” Woods announces through the comms, warning the other spy monitoring them from afar.

“Woods? What are you talking about?” Park asks in confusion.

“I’m talking about Greenlight! That’s what Perseus is after, and Hudson has his fingerprints all over it!”

“Woods, you’re breaking up! Just get the hell out of there!” The other spy raises her voice in panic, the communication being cut off shortly after.

_ Shit. _

They run through the building, the alarm ringing loudly through Bell’s ears and a Russian announcer shouting commands through the speakers.  _ The whole place is alert. _ Their booted feet echoes against the metallic floor beneath them, their heavy steps distinct.

They reach the end of a corridor, a fortified window at the end of it. Bell sees a flash of light before the window crumbles as bullets come through with no rest. Her heart misses a beat as she shields her face with her arm and takes cover behind a facade.

“Oh shit!” Woods calls. “That APC is gonna tear us apart!”

He starts running again, faster than before as Bell follows him close behind.

“Don’t stop or we’re dead!” Woods shouts at her from the front.

Bell runs, and  _ runs,  _ as fast as her legs allow her to. The muscles in her thighs are straining and her equipment feels heavier than usual, her lungs burning and her heart in her throat.  _ Don’t stop. _ She feels wood shards slicing through her sweater, cutting her and sinking inside her skin. The dust slips inside her body at each breath she takes, tickling her throat and tinting her clothes.

Woods trips before her, falling to his knees as the bullets graze their bodies. She grabs him by the back of his collar, getting him back on his feet as they both keep running.

“You’re welcome!” She tells him, raising her voice above the bullets’ noises.

They arrive behind a stone wall, the attacks from the APC finally coming to an end but quickly replaced by more Soviet soldiers.

“Up ahead! They’re trying to cut us off!” Woods warns her before shooting as well.

Bell scans the area, the place being filled with Soviets, occupying every cover they can find. She tries to fend them off, but every time she eliminates some there’s more to come.

“Woods, Bell? What’s your status?” Park’s voice comes through.

“Just make sure Adler and Mason are ready to extract at the exfil!” Woods replies.

They advance through the place, the gunshots ringing all through the site, ricocheting against the metal walls and reaching her ears. It’s hard to communicate with Woods above all the noises, but they manage.

Bell perks up at the sudden loud metallic noises, sending a shiver down her spine and raising her anxiety. The thought of being stuck in here and captured makes her stomach churn.

_ Not now. _

“Shit! The doors are closing!” Woods hisses through her earpiece.

“Climb into that APC, I’ll handle the shooting!” Bell tells him, already mounting the vast vehicle. She slips inside the small circular hole on the roof, positioning herself behind the heavy rifle.

“Good idea. I’ll drive!” He says as he gets inside the APC. “Let’s see, here, ignition, steering, gear shift. Alright, let’s roll!”

“Do you even know how to drive this thing?” She asks, not expecting any positive answer.

“Hold on, Bell!” Is Woods’ only answer, confirming her inquiry.

She takes a deep breath, steadying herself and gripping the heavy rummage tightly as she watches,  _ and feel,  _ Woods driving right into the closed doors, bursting them open. 

_ It worked, I’ll give him that. _

Behind the doors is another part of a town, a perfect replica of a park, the grass and the trees looking a  _ bit _ too real.

“Bell, watch that fucker coming up on our right!” Woods shouts.

But it isn’t enough, she doesn’t have time to stop them when she feels the impact. She loses her balance, a sharp pain strikes the middle of her back up to the back of her neck, pulling a pained noise out of her throat. She braces her hands onto the roof as she hisses herself back to her seat, grasping at the heavy rifle.

“God dammit!” Woods croaks, quickly getting back on track.

She keeps shooting, her head spinning paired with the ache along her spine is making it nearly impossible to aim right, nor standing upright.

“You’ve got to get us out of here!” She shouts to Woods below her.

“Keep shooting! I’m looking for an exit!” Woods instructs as Bell finally sees the end of the fake park. “Would it have killed them to put in some goddamns street signs?”

His remark makes her chuckle despite the situation they’re in, the Soviets soldiers  _ visibly  _ multiplying.

“There! I can see the exit!” Woods says.

_ Finally. _

“Don’t stop!”

“Hold on!”

She shoots the other APC’s, all the while rockets are shot directly at them, crashing a few meters away. The explosions warm her whole body, a thick layer of a mix between sweat, dust, and blood covering her face and body. The flashes are nearly blinding her, the loud crashes threatening to puncture her eardrums, her jaw sore due to the way she’s baring her teeth. She grips the rifle even tighter at what’s coming, they will have to crash right into the APC’s blocking the road in order to reach the exit.

“I’m gonna floor it!” Woods howls, and he does  _ just that. _

She shields her face with an arm as he passes through them, protecting herself from the fire erupting from the destroyed vehicles.

“Oh, hell yeah!” Woods cheers shortly after.

“Woods, Bell? What’s your status?” Park’s voice comes through the comms, clearer than before.

“Gather everyone, Park! The whole team! Hudson has got a shit ton of explaining to do!”

“I take it you’re ready to leave,” The MI6 agent replies before cutting the communication.

Bell carefully leans her head back, looking at the soon to be blue sky, letting out a sigh. Now that the adrenaline is dissipating, she can feel the multiple shards stuck inside her skin at her left arm. As well as the blood leaking from them.  _ That _ is the least of her concerns. What’s occupying her mind right now is Hudson.

_ I hope for you to have a great excuse. _

The loud banging below her startles her out of her thoughts.

“Everything alright up there?” Woods demands as she raises her head. “Come down, I don’t think we’ll meet more Reds on the way.”

She slips inside the vehicle, joining the other CIA agent. She plunges her hand inside her pocket, retrieving the pack of cigarettes she stole earlier. She reaches an arm to Woods, offering it.

“This is one hell of a brand. Probably the best ones,” She says as he takes it with no hesitation.

The rest of the ride is silent as they reach the exfil point, Bell being the first one to come out as she hisses herself on the roof, through the small opening. Woods appears at her side in no time.

“Need a hand?” He asks, seeing her state, already reaching an arm to help her.

She uses his arm as support as she climbs off the vehicle, landing onto the dirt below her. The fresh morning air hits her face, cooling her body down from the intense heat inside the vehicle.

_ Or is it me? _

She sees Mason hopping back into the helicopter when he spots the two agents walking towards him. When Bell approaches, Mason reaches a hand to grab her and pull her into the helicopter.

“I got you,” Mason’s voice reaches her ears, barely above a whisper.

She lets herself roll onto the helicopter’s steel floor, a faint groan escaping her lips once she’s resting on her back. 

“Bell, looking radiant as always,” Adler says from the pilot’s seat.

“Shut up,” She mutters, provoking laughter out of him as he launches them into the air.

Her left arm is twitching, digging the wood shards even more inside her skin. She catches one of the thick shards between her thumb and index finger, pulling slowly on it. She bares her teeth, grunting.  _ Shit. _ She slips it out fully, flicking it away. To make it even better, her head is spinning and her jaw feels numb due to the blow she took earlier.

“Bell, we’ll drop you off at the safe house with Park. Mason, Adler and I will take care of Hudson once I fill them in,” Woods says from his position besides her.

“What?” She straightens herself to a full sitting position, resting her arm on her lap. “He owes me an explanation, too.”

“He owes one to all of us. But we will confront him first, to see what he has to say,” Woods assures in a firm tone, raising his head to look at his colleague.

“Woods’s right,” Mason agrees, sitting across them. “You don’t exactly look your best self right now.”

Bell looks at the solid, unmoving floor, balling her fist at her side. She knows she can’t argue on that, she’s injured, worned out, and Hudson already  _ hates _ her.

“I hate to say it, but you’re probably right,” She drops her head against the wall behind her, sighing heavily. “Give him a good lesson for me.”

“You can count on that,” Woods assures.

* * *

Alex looks at the agent sitting across from him, next to his long-standing colleague and friend. She’s staring at a random point on the floor, her jaw tightly clenched. Alex feels a wave of nausea at the sight. Not because of her state, he has seen  _ much worse, _ but because she reminds him of  _ himself. _

_ She’s just like I was. _

_ She’s just like I am. _

He sees himself in her, at least his past self, what was left of him. He’s slowly recovering, and he has made good progress since then, according to his doctors. But this,  _ Bell _ reliving what he has been through, brings back the rage and pain he’s been trying to suppress these past few years. 

_ She is not even aware. _

Alex finds it complicated to look at her in the eyes when they’re talking, recognizing the same lost, unsure gaze. Even if the others are not noticing it yet, her state will only get worse, leading to her fighting with her own mind and her true personality, her true self, will finally crawl back on the surface, and who knows what might happen.

_ Adler won’t come out of this unharmed. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woods and Mason having a soft spot for Bell?also, the next chapters should involve heavy Park/Bell content :) hope you liked! <3


	9. Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hudson has some explanation to do, Adler confronts him and Park discovers something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally i posted this one, i’ve been really busy lately but i was also working on future chapters ;), so enjoy this one for now!

**CIA Safehouse E9, West Berlin**

Bell bangs twice on the garage door, then another two times a few seconds later, losing patience. She is about to bang again when it finally opens. She passes underneath the door, coming face to face with a confused MI6 agent, her arms crossed on her chest.

“You look…” She tilts her head to the side, biting her lip. “Dusty.”

Bell raises a single brow before snatching the beanie off her head, throwing it aside. She starts shedding off her equipment but her left arm protests, a grunt slipping past her lips. Helen is at her side  _ a bit  _ too quickly, offering a seat to the injured agent. Bell sits backwards on the chair, straddling it.

“Easy there. Will you tell me what the hell happened out there? And why are you alone?” She asks, grabbing a chair and positioning herself next to Bell.

“Slow down,” Bell mutters, resting her arm on the chair’s back, examining it. “I’ve got to take care of this first.”

“Let me do it, tell me what happened instead,” Helen proposes.

She rests a gentle hand on Bell’s arm, taking a closer look at it. Bell feels a rush of blood reaching her face, tinting her cheeks, at the contact. The air feels hot and the way Helen’s fingers are working on her arm is making her dizzy.

“Alright. Perseus infiltrated a CIA nuke program called Greenlight, the stolen nuke he possesses is American. Hudson knew about it,” Bell explains.

“Keep going,” Helen says.

She feels a wood shard being slipped out, then another one. She looks at the other woman, who’s working carefully on her arm.

“We weren’t supposed to know. I’ve listened to recorded conversations between Hudson and someone else,” Bell leaves out the  _ asset _ part, keeping it to herself.

“Bloody hell,” Helen sneers under her breath, raising her head to glare at Bell.

“Woods, Adler and Mason are on their way to see him right now,” Bell says, watching as the other woman processes the information.

“I hope he gets what he deserves. How did he send the two of you thinking this was not going to be discovered?” She asks, not expecting an answer.

“I don’t know but I hope to find out very soon.”

“This isn’t good. America will be the first one framed if something happens,” Helen says as she keeps taking out the shards.

“I can’t believe he lied to us,” She says after a moment, the words spat between her clenched teeth.

“I can,” Bell declares.

Her words stay hung in the air, the other woman aware of Hudson and Bell’s already rocky relationship. Once all the shards are pulled off, Helen rolls Bell’s sleeve up all the way to her shoulder to disinfect and wipe her arm. Bell frowns but the corners of her lips are tugged upwards in a small grin.

“You know, I had much worse than shards planted deep inside my arm,” Bell says, startling the other woman.

“It still needs to be taken care of,” Helen replies, shrugging and Bell can swear that her cheeks changed color. “Besides, your arm would get infected.”

“I pulled a print out from the base, about Greenlight,” Bell says after a moment, once the other woman had finished working on her injured arm.

She pulls out the sheet of paper from her pocket, unfolding it and showing it to the MI6 agent who takes it from her hands. A moment passes before one of them speaks again.

“I’ll see what I can pull out from this, you should get some rest,” Helen advises, getting up from her seat.

“You’re sure you don’t want any help?” Bell asks, tilting her head back to look at the dark haired agent.

Helen rests a hand on Bell’s shoulder, looking down at her with a grin on her lips.

“You’re cute,” She says before going to sit at her desk, leaving the other woman confused and slightly flustered.

Bell gets up from her chair, unclasping her full body harness and taking off her equipment. She lies onto the mattress on the floor, puffing when she feels the comfortable material underneath her.  _ Finally.  _ She tucks her arms under her head for support, folding a leg, her booted foot in contact with the mattress.

Her eyes immediately land onto the other woman opposite her working on the print out, a hand gripping her dark hair in concentration. Bell feels a tingling sensation through her body, and a familiar warmth in her belly, as usual when she looks at the MI6 agent.

When she is caught in her staring she doesn’t try to turn her head away or find an excuse, she keeps gazing at the other woman without a word, the latter offering a small grin in return.

* * *

**FEBRUARY 28, 1981**

**CIA Safehouse E9, West Berlin**

Bell stands between Mason and Woods, her arms crossed on her chest as she watches Hudson and Adler at the center of the room. Her whole body tenses at the sight, anger creeping through her.  _ Let’s see what he has to say. _

“Tell them about Greenlight,” Adler instructs, stepping back so Hudson is at the center of attention.

“In ‘58, Eisenhower authorized a top secret program called Operation Greenlight because he feared that if a Soviet invasion were to occur, we couldn’t respond quick enough. He was right. Operation Greenlight’s main goal was to counter an ultimate invasion by placing bombs in every big European city. Rome, London, Brussels,” Hudson explains, pacing around the room. “Berlin.”

“Since when did you know about the stolen bomb?” Bell finally asks, catching the team’s attention, as well as Hudson’s.

“Does it matter?” Hudson replies, a bit too harshly to Bell’s taste.

“It does,” Helen defends from her position next to Adler.

“One of the nukes went offline eight weeks ago,” He announces after a moment. “We weren’t sure until you found those pictures in East Berlin.” Hudson looks at Bell behind his dark shades, _seemingly_ _fucking glued to his face._

“You tell me, Perseus had an American nuke during all this time? And if he decides to detonate it, America will be framed and becomes global enemy number one?” Helen resumes.

“My thoughts exactly,” Adler comments, a cigarette hanging from his lips.

Hudson balls his fists, restraining himself.

“Adler, I suggest you to no-”

“What about the  _ asset _ , Hudson?” Bell interrupts, walking up to him.

His mouth falls open, despite his sunglasses, Bell can see his surprise. She’s the only one having listened to those recorded conversations in this room, and she’s the only one aware of their existence, which makes it even better.

“What asset?” Woods asks from behind her, probably talking on behalf of the whole team. “What else have you been hiding?”

She watches him struggling in his own discomfort for a few moments, staring right back at him.

“But the play has been called, the ball is in motion, right Hudson?” She repeats the same words she heard, mocking him.

He tightens his jaw as he gets even closer, leaning forward to reach her ear.

“The _asset_ is perfectly under control. But if they go out of their way, _we_ end it,” Hudson spits between his clenched teeth, a warning that says “ _watch your back”._

An arm covered in brown leather makes its way between them, separating their two bodies. Bell looks up to see Adler staring at Hudson.

“I told you to be careful, Hudson. You don’t want Woods and Bell as your enemies,” Adler warns, then looks at Bell, nodding at her.

She steps back, her ears pulsing and the tip of them red in anger. The sight of a speechless Hudson had brought her the satisfaction she expected, but it doesn’t do anything to tame the anger she feels towards him.

“We need to know what Perseus is planning for that nuke,” Adler announces from the center of the room, leaning onto the table. “Park, anything else in that printout Bell and Woods pulled from the base?”

“There’s mention of an excavation taking place in the Ural Mountains. Yamantau. Our insider within the KGB confirmed an active operation,” Helen replies, stepping at the center of the room, next to Adler.

“Yamantau… I thought Hudson and Weaver buried that place years ago,” Woods says from besides Bell.

“We did,” Hudson affirms.

“Perseus wants to salvage the old mainframe,” Helen adds. 

“Dragovich and Steiner must have left some good shit behind,” Woods says.

“Steiner…” Mason mutters. “Send me and Woods.”

“You’re too close to this, Mason. We can afford zero fuck-ups,” Hudson disagrees.

“Bullshit. You know there’s no one better for the job,” Mason argues.

“It’s my call. I want Mason and Woods on this. Find that mainframe before Perseus does,” Adler declares as Hudson raises his hands in the air in resilience, aware that he’s not in a position where  _ he  _ can decide.

“I’ll contact our KGB insider, Belikov. He’ll offer logistical support. Hell Belikov may want to fly the chopper himself,” Hudson says, seemingly pissed at Adler’s decision.

“Whatever Perseus wants at Yamantau… I want it more,” Adler assures as he crushes his cigarette inside the red ashtray.

“There’s more,” Helen announces then. “Our insider signaled another active operation taking place in Paris. We don’t know much for now but the stakes are too high to ignore. We must do something quickly.”

“Go on,” Adler demands, crossing his arms.

“If we take care of it, we would directly strike at Perseus’ core,” The MI6 agent reveals, her words changing radically the atmosphere in the room. “As far as we know, Perseus’ whereabouts remain unknown, but he is always,  _ always,  _ one step ahead of us, despite being completely invisible.”

“Perseus got eyes everywhere,” Bell concludes, catching Helen’s attention.

“Exactly,” The other woman says, the shadow of a smirk on her lips. “It is his greatest strength, and  _ weakness. _ And right now, his eyes are in Paris.”

She slips a photo across the table, a gruffy man with dark short hair and an unkempt beard is shown on it, Bell notices the scar cutting his upper lip in half.

“Sergei Kuznetsov,” Helen says as she taps a finger onto the photo. “We don’t know much about him except that ever since Arash Quadivar’s death, he entered Perseus’ close circle.”

“What do you propose?” Adler asks, probably already approving the idea.

“I say we are finally the ones taking a step ahead. We don’t know for how long Kuznetsov will stay in Paris, we must decide quickly,” She says, Adler nodding in agreement.

“You’re right. We can’t let that chance pass,” He says, raising his head to look at her. “Crossing Mason and Woods off the table, who do you want on this operation?”

“Bell, and myself,” She declares, all eyes falling upon the Russian spy.

_ Well. _

Bell restrains herself from smiling, but the corners of her lips lightly twitch. She looks at the two agents before her, their position feeling familiar,  _ natural. _ She crosses her arms on her chest.

“When do we leave?”

* * *

**MARCH 1, 1981**

**CIA Safehouse E9, West Berlin**

Sims opens the spacious trunk, revealing a ton of electronics packed together. Bell reaches a hand to look through it before getting it smacked.  _ Huh. _

“No touching,” Helen reprimands, causing Bell to roll her eyes.

“I got you the best material on the market, it wasn’t that easy to find but I told you I could get you anything you needed,” Sims says, a proud smile on his lips.

“The best, huh?” Bell repeats, leaning against the car, her arms crossed on her chest as usual.

“This is basically luxury,” Sims replies, his smile growing larger.

“Sims, you did a great job in such a short amount of time, as always,” Adler interrupts, nodding towards his direction.

“Thank you, Doc.”

Bell frowns at the odd nickname, this isn’t the first time Sims is using it but somehow it still sounds weird to her ears.  _ I have to ask someday. _

“Bell,” Adler’s strong hand lands on her shoulder, his fingers pressing in a friendly way. “We’re glad to have you on this team, and I’m glad you accepted to be part of this operation. This mission in Paris is made for you.”

“Getting sentimental, are we Adler?” Bell jokes, lifting a single brow. She sets her hand on his arm, straightening herself. “We’ll be back with enough intel to catch this rat, wherever he’s hiding.”

“I hope so,” Adler says, wearing a confident smile. “You and Park are the perfect pair for this.”

“What about Woods and Mason?” The other woman asks, slightly amused at the sight.

“Hudson contacted Belikov this morning, they are still packing things up but they should be ready to leave for Yamantau tonight,” Adler explains, raising a cigarette to his lips.

“Good.”

“But I want to make sure you know that you two will be alone there. If something goes wrong, no extraction possible, no backup,” Adler says, pinching his cigarette between his thumb and index finger as he gestures at them. “So no extravagance, Bell.”

“I’ll be a good kid,” She assures.

* * *

“Hudson,” Adler mutters, catching the attention of the concerned agent.

Hudson stops dead in his tracks, not expecting to see the other man here. He straightens himself, passing a hand over his tie in a nervous manner.

“I’m not supposed to be here so I won’t stay long,” Adler announces as he pushes himself off the wall he had been leaning on, flicking his cigarette to the ground.

“What do you want, Adler?” Hudson sneers through his teeth, his fists clenched tight.

“What do  _ you _ want, Hudson?” He gets closer.

Hudson scoffs, starting to pace around the room to put some distance between them.

“I don’t see the reason for your venue. Besides, don’t you have a team to monitor? You know, the one with-”

“ _ Our  _ team, Hudson.  _ Our. _ You’re with us, you might not be on the field but you’re a part of it,” Adler snaps, his voice echoing through the empty room.

“But  _ she _ isn’t my responsibility,” Hudson stops in his tracks for the second time, right in front of Adler, his finger pointing at the other agent’s chest.

Adler leans forward, his calm and controlled attitude gone now at the threat of blowing this operation up.

“Why do you care about her so much?” Adler repeats the same words he said to Park two months or so prior.

Hudson barks a laugh, spittle flying from his mouth to land onto the marked blond’s face.

“Why do  _ I _ care so much? Do not tell me Mason and Woods were okay with all this, am I wrong?” He asks, a mocking smirk on his face. “She’s unstable, Adler. You shouldn’t even have chosen her for this operation. She’s not herself, the true woman underneath that layer of lies you’re forcing into her mind is going to crawl back to the surface soon enough, you won’t even have time to realize it.”

Adler processes each word at a time, making his head spin at the inevitable truth and consequences behind them. He knows it, Bell is like a time bomb waiting for the final tick, and no one has the power to engage it nor stop it, all they can do is slow it down,  _ or speed it up. _ Hudson is right and it infuriates him. He’s never been one to like him, anyway. Maybe because of their similar personalities, but yet so different views and principles.

_ Asshole. _

“As you said, if she goes out of her way, we neutralize her. But  _ I  _ decide when and how, Park and I are the ones calling the shots here, you’re nothing more than a pawn,” Adler clarifies, spitting the last words with all the bitterness he feels against the man.

“She  _ is  _ already out of her way,” Hudson calmly says then, taking a few steps back towards the door.

“God knows I’m not one to sympathize with the enemy but I dread what is going to happen to her when you won’t need her anymore. Well, that is if she isn’t as sick as you, and from what I saw, she is a good candidate at who’s the most rotten to the core agent,” Hudson announces as his final words, finally taking his leave.

He came here with the feeling of being in control of this situation,  _ of Bell _ , but now it just feels like it has been ripped away from him.  _ Or has it always been this way? _ The illusion of being in control? The latter makes it even harder to bear, the realization of having a flawed plan from the start, that he isn’t much more in control in this than Bell.

_ I am. _

They knew the risks and they took them.

There’s no going back now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’m telling you, from now on we are not counting bell’s hospital visits anymore haha (well except for the next chapter).


End file.
